


After summers of fasting (I feel hunger at last)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Camping, Claw-related Mishaps, Enemies to Lovers, Laura Hale Lives, M/M, Oblivious Derek Hale, Pack Bonding, Pining, RIP Stiles' Air Mattress, Sharing a Bed, There was Only One Bed Roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25525777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: This was the first time that Derek had been forced to go along with the pack camping trip. And now that Laura had decided that Derek would have to share a tent with Stiles Stilinski, it was also going to be the last time. Of course it wouldn’t stop at just sharing a tent, would it? Air mattress, meet claws!
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 46
Kudos: 464
Collections: A Very Sterek Summer fest 2020





	After summers of fasting (I feel hunger at last)

**Author's Note:**

> For theme 2 of A Very Sterek Summer: Camp/Camping. 
> 
> In which Derek is a dummy pulling metaphorical pigtails and he's the only one who thinks there's enemies to lovers going on. Stiles is just like "figure it out already, dummy".

DAY 1, 3:56 PM

Stiles Stilinski was possibly the worst choice for a camping buddy. 

Not that Derek’d had much of a choice. Or any kind of choice, really. He’d gotten a tent thrown at him by his older sister and Alpha, and promptly dropped it on his own feet when Laura told him that he was sharing the damn thing with Stiles. 

It was a good thing he healed so quickly, because that had really hurt. For about two seconds. 

“This is going to be great,” Stiles bounced around the clearing. “I haven’t gone camping in ages. Because well, Dad’s job kind of makes it impossible for him to go off the radar. He has to be available in case of emergency, even if it’s just by phone. And look: no signal!” 

He was obnoxiously waving his phone in Derek’s face, surprisingly happy to be separated from his close relationship with his computer. 

Derek had assumed that Stiles wouldn’t want to be out in the wilderness for a week without any cell phone reception or Wi-Fi or most of his favorite things. He had assumed that meant that he’d get to have his own tent, seeing as the couples wouldn’t want him third-wheeling like that. He’d assumed wrong, and Laura had really enjoyed rubbing his face in it. 

But then again, that was pretty much what older siblings were for. 

It left him frustratedly setting up a far too cramped tent all by himself. Because for some reason Laura had decided that Derek and Stiles got to have the one three-person tent they had. And everyone knew that a three-person tent could barely fit two. 

Stiles probably flailed in his sleep as much as he did when awake. There was not going to be any room for him to do that without hitting Derek. Non-stop. 

Was it too late for him to run back to civilization with his tail between his legs? 

“Are we going to hunt our own food?” Stiles would not stop talking. “Or are you wolves going to hunt for us? Derek, are you going to kill Bambi’s mom? Or are you more of a rabbit person? There aren’t any coyotes or mountain lions or wild boar around here, right? Because Laura promised my Dad she’d have me back in one piece, and if I get gored by some wild boar’s fangs or whatever, she will be in a lot of trouble.” 

Bambi’s mom? Honestly, sometimes just trying to keep up with half of the nonsense that Stiles was spouting was enough to give him one hell of a headache. That was why he usually didn’t bother unless it was related to research. Because Stiles had saved their lives a bunch of times now, and Derek’s specifically even more than that. He was good at that stuff, but when it came to stuff that didn’t involve an imminent threat? Stiles made him uncomfortable. 

Derek just didn’t get it. But somehow, he still always found himself near Stiles. 

“We’re werewolves, Stiles,” was all Derek could say to that. 

“That is not news to me, dude,” Stiles always had a million more words to use, even when silence would do. “I was there for the whole, ‘Scott getting bitten’ thing. Like, I knew before Scott did. But you remember that, so that was obviously not what you meant. What did you mean?” 

It wasn’t that Derek was a particularly taciturn guy these days. It was just that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise with someone like Stiles around. Especially when Stiles got into it with some of the other members of the pack, because they all had their separate in-jokes and their way of connecting. Everyone did, even Laura. Everyone but Derek. 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Jackson shouted from his far too expensive tent. 

“You shut up,” Stiles just could not let it go. “Are you really too stuck up to get a normal tent like the rest of us? Were you scared you’d break a claw setting it up yourself?” 

That was the Stiles and Jackson friendship. Because they were friends now, no matter how much they liked to deny it. These days Stiles was closer to his high school nemesis than he was to his high school best friend. Not that Stiles would ever own up to that. 

“It’s not like I see you working hard,” Jackson was still determined to antagonize Stiles. “You’re letting Derek do all the work.” 

Was Jackson trying to get him killed? If Stiles started helping, they were never going to get anything done. Or Stiles was going to be distracting, as he always was, but now that distraction was going to lead to a very unstable tent that would crash on top of them in their sleep. 

Why couldn’t Derek just sleep under the stars? 

“No helping,” Derek interrupted before Stiles could offer. “Absolutely no helping.” 

Of course Stiles was going to offer to help - he always did. Even when there was stuff going on that he really needed to stay out of, Stiles still tried to help. He didn’t always offer, sometimes he just steamrolled everyone and started helping no matter what they told him. Derek was pretty sure that habit had been born young, when Scott let himself be walked all over because he’d never been much of an idea guy. 

Scott had the worst ideas out of all of them. And that was really saying something. 

“That’s rude, Der-Bear,” Stiles continued to blather on. “I was totally in Boy Scouts as a kid. I know how to tie all the knots, even the difficult and kinky ones, and I can make a fire and make S’mores and set up a damn tent.” 

A little kid with a buzzcut in a boy scout uniform, trying to gain merit badges. So maybe Derek vaguely remembered seeing that kid around town. 

Didn’t mean he was going to let Stiles get his clumsy hands on their tent. 

“Go help someone else,” Derek ordered. 

It wasn’t a control issues thing – except it was. Derek was not going to sleep in a tent that he hadn’t erected himself. If he did it all by himself, he could be completely sure that it was done the right way, and that it was in exactly the right spot. Stiles could handle the inside of the tent after Derek was done. He could pick a side of the tent and roll out his sleeping bag – not Derek’s, because he didn’t need the distraction of Stiles’ scent there. 

“But you’re my tent buddy,” Stiles was actually batting his eyelashes at Derek now, making him look more than slightly demented. “I am not getting in between Erica and Boyd, or Allison and Isaac, or even Lydia and Jackson. Lydia would actually murder me. We both know that Laura and Jordan clearly do not want to be interrupted. I could supervise Scott, though. He clearly needs all the help he can get. Back when we were in Boy Scouts, I had to help him all the time. Poor Kira. I’m not sure she knows what she’s in for this week.” 

With that said, Stiles ambled in the direction of Scott and Kira’s tent. Or their excuse for a tent, because it looked like a mess. Scott had apparently been insistent that he was doing it himself, and Kira was just mischievous enough to let him do it so she could laugh about it for a while before fixing it. Because she had the same kind of terrifying competence her mom had, even though it was hidden underneath her dad’s warm heart and her own bubbly personality. 

If it hadn’t been for Scott, Derek was pretty sure they could have been something resembling friends. But Scott was never going to trust Derek. Not ever. 

“The cavalry has arrived,” Stiles announced his presence. “Scotty, my boy, looks like you are not having a good day. This just looks stressful and I’m not even in the middle of it. How about you help gather some wood for the campfire later, and the lovely Kira and I fix this mess?” 

It was a nice suggestion, and Kira was helping sell it by being adorable in Scott’s general direction. That usually worked. Just not always. 

“I can do it,” Scott stubbornly insisted. 

Derek wondered how Stiles was going to handle that one without outwardly lying to his supposed best friend. Because even though Scott was permanently distracted by Kira and currently distracted by a crappy tent, he was still enough of a wolf to tell when people were lying to him. Just barely, but he managed. 

Okay, so maybe the dislike was completely mutual. 

“Do you really want me to go tripping around the woods?” Stiles managed to turn it around somehow. “Dude, you know I’d break my ankle like two minutes in and that would suck for everyone. I do not handle being uncomfortable very well, and you know that.” 

He was going to complain the whole time, wasn’t he? 

Derek tried to think back on the millions of times that Stiles had been even the slightest bit uncomfortable, and yes, that did make sense. Except Stiles was surprisingly quiet when he was in actual pain, as if he didn’t have the energy to keep up his manic stream of consciousness-like babbling. Apparently it was possible for Stiles to be quiet. 

Though if it was because of pain, it felt like an empty victory. 

“Fine,” Scott reluctantly got out from the tent-like mess. “I’ll do it.” 

At least they could count on Stiles to manipulate Scott into not ruining shit. Derek was grateful for that much - even though he’d have preferred it if neither of them had been in the pack. Not if it cost them Kira, though. Because she would leave without Scott, probably. 

“You’re the best, Scotty,” Stiles actually flashed finger guns at his buddy, because he was a damn child even at age twenty-two. “My fragile human body will thank you for it.” 

It was summer. In California. Stiles wasn’t going to freeze without a campfire. He’d probably brought plenty of layers anyway. Derek hadn’t ever seen him without at least an obnoxious t-shirt and a flannel overshirt - even in the midst of summer. 

Just like now - the last summer before most of the pack entered the real world, of jobs and careers and adult life. The high school sophomore idiots he’d met on his first day back in Beacon Hills had somehow managed to graduate college. Derek was surprised (Scott, who’d somehow managed to finish a four year degree) and reluctantly impressed (Stiles, who’d graduated magna cum laude from Stanford). 

The gloating about that had been pretty annoying.

“Are you going to keep him warm tonight, Der-Bear?” Laura said it loud enough for everyone to hear - even Stiles. “We can’t let our resident fragile human freeze to death.” 

Great, next they were going to start cracking stupid jokes about huddling together for warmth and sharing sleeping bags and all of that childish bullshit. Just because the rest of the pack was probably going to have loud outdoor sex, didn’t mean that Derek felt any such impetus. Especially not in relation to Stiles. It was  _ Stiles _ , for fuck’s sake! 

“Laura, I hate you,” Derek muttered under his breath, knowing only the wolves would hear. 

There was some definite snickering from the peanut gallery. Erica was particularly amused by it, because she took her role as surrogate younger sister very, very seriously. And her crush on Stiles had turned into a surprisingly solid friendship after she’d apologized for hitting Stiles in the head with car parts. Not that it stopped her from trying to embarrass him - for some reason Stiles’ closest friendships involved a lot of embarrassing each other. To Derek, that was just unconscionable. Why would he  _ want _ to be embarrassed by his friends? 

That was just not the kind of bonding ritual that he wanted to participate in. 

“Der-Bear, my werewolf space heater,” Stiles shouted from his position across the clearing. “I know it’s going to be extremely difficult to keep your hands off me, so I’m offering you blanket permission to snuggle with me all night long. You give good cuddle, right? You look like you do, anyway. Laura, is Derek good at cuddling? If there’s anyone who’d know, it’s you.” 

Of course he’d involved Laura in it again. Because as the stereotypical older sister, she had to make sure that she embarrassed Derek at every possible moment. And for some reason, she assumed that throwing Stiles at him was going to do the trick, more so than anything else. 

Laura had blatantly refused to get the memo about Derek not enjoying embarrassment. 

“He’s a very cuddly puppy,” Laura nodded faux-sagely, that hypocrite. 

“Dude, you can totally sleep all wolf-y if you want,” Stiles was shouting in Derek’s direction again, even though Derek would have heard him if he whispered. “Puppy cuddles are the best.” 

Clearly, this week was going to end with Derek getting convicted of murder. 

Correction, a completely justifiable homicide. Self-defense was not out of the question.

* * *

DAY 2, 1:19 AM: 

The fourth time Stiles hit him in the face (supposedly accidentally), Derek was ready to tear his throat out. With his teeth. 

“Will you just stop?” Derek growled at Stiles for the fifteenth time since they’d gone to bed.

They’d gone to bed early so the pack could all ‘get some sleep’. Which meant that everyone was having sex, except for Derek and Stiles. Not that Stiles could overhear that it was going on, unless they got particularly loud (which some of them did - Lydia wasn’t a banshee for no reason). But apparently the unfamiliar surroundings were enough to keep Stiles awake. 

And until Stiles fell asleep, Derek wasn’t getting any peace and quiet either. 

“I can’t help my awesome, dude,” Stiles wasn’t even trying to take him seriously. “I am not a very subtle sleeper. You should have expected that. I don’t do subtle anything.” 

Stiles was probably the only person in the history of the entire world who would ever refer to the uncontrolled flailing he did as ‘awesome’. Derek had a lot of other words for it, none of them positive. If he hadn’t been a wolf, he would have had bruises by now. Because apparently Stiles had trouble getting comfortable, which meant he turned back and forth and wiggled and pulled his arm from his sleeping bag (hitting Derek in the face on the backswing) only to put it back because it was getting cold. The idiot did not know what he wanted, at all. 

At this point, Derek was contemplating just knocking him out. Even if Laura killed him for it. 

“Could you at least stop hitting me?” Derek sighed so heavily he was basically still growling. 

“No one can control The Stiles,” ‘The Stiles’ was just getting worse and worse. “Least of all The Stiles himself.” 

Derek could actually hear the capitalization there, and it was a source of great concern. Clearly he’d already been spending far too much time with Stiles if he was able to pick up on that this early in the week. Was there a way to claim that his Stiles interaction meter was all filled up already so that he’d be excused for the rest of the week? 

Of course not. If he dared to ask, Laura was probably going to tie them together. 

“Unless you wanna cuddle me close and keep me still,” Stiles apparently hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass yet. “I hear I’m much better behaved with an active bed partner. Someone who wears me out and/or keeps me pinned to the bed all night.” 

Stiles was not the virginal sixteen-year-old that Derek had met in the woods. How did Derek know that? Because Stiles had bought himself a ‘congrats on the sex’ cake and took it to the pack meeting, instead of letting the wolves keep up the pretension of blissful ignorance even though the smell was stupidly obvious even after several showers. 

Because of bullshit like that, Derek was already in possession of far too much information about what Stiles got up to. He really didn’t need to hear anything more. 

“A straightjacket would do it,” Derek muttered under his breath. 

If only it was that easy. Derek didn’t have any proper restraints, and once again, Laura was probably going to murder him for trying. But a guy could dream, and so Derek did, of a gagged Stiles who was tied to the bed. Naked, with Derek just…

Oh  _ fuck no _ . He was not going down that path. Not again. 

“I heard that,” Stiles gasped loudly, just to be dramatic. 

“You were meant to,” Derek roared in return. “Can you, for once in your life, shut up and stay still so that I can go the fuck to sleep? You’re keeping everyone up at this point.” 

He was kind of surprised that no one else had told Stiles to shut up already. He would have expected that Jackson, at least, had a lot to say about this conversation. Usually by this point Jackson would have had a comment about how he’d gladly pay for the straightjacket if it got Stiles away from him. Or something along those lines. 

Jackson did like to throw money at anything he thought of as a problem. 

“You’re the only one complaining,” Stiles just wasn’t going to let this go, ever. 

Because maybe the others thought Derek had a handle on this, or they just didn’t want to start screaming just because Stiles was being a pain in the ass yet again. Apparently he just couldn’t act normal for even a second, as if he actually had it out for Derek. 

“I will gag you,” Derek warned, rapidly losing composure. 

Was Stiles honestly doing this on purpose? Was he actually that much of an asshole? Was he really that bad at knowing when to shut the fuck up already and go the fuck to sleep? 

If Stiles was genuinely just like this, Derek really did not understand why the rest of the pack seemed to like him that much. But if he wasn’t actually like this, then why was he acting like this now? It was clearly something he only did to Derek, because Derek was pretty sure that if Laura ever said as much as a syllable condemning this, Stiles was going to change his tune in about half a second. But when Derek got annoyed…

Stiles didn’t have any damn respect for him, for the Alpha’s representative, the Historian, the Translator, the Right Hand. Derek had worked so hard to be worthy of it, and even Scott seemed to respect his position in the pack now. Not Stiles, though. 

“With your dick?” Stiles asked, obviously trying to sound innocent. 

And failing. 

Derek growled and leaned forwards, only to be startled by a popping sound and then the slow sound of air being released from somewhere. As Derek’s emerging claws had apparently poked a hole in Stiles’ cheap, noisy air mattress. 

Was this what karma was like? 

“What was that?” Stiles asked. 

Clearly, he already knew what it was. The guy was smarter than Derek liked to give him credit for. He knew exactly what had happened and he just wanted to give Derek shit for it. 

“You ruined my air mattress,” Stiles was working himself up to another dramatic fit. “I bought that just for this trip, Der-Bear. And you ruined it. Because you couldn’t keep your claws in check. Well, the joke’s on you, because my poor fragile human self is not going to sleep on the ground. Nope, not doing it. I could permanently damage myself that way.” 

Great, now he had to deal with this guilt trip. Even though he hadn’t exactly done it on purpose, even though he’d wanted to do it really badly. He wanted Stiles to suffer some relatively harmless consequences for his asshole behavior. Because it was completely unnecessary - it wasn’t like Derek could scent any actual embarrassment or pain or anything that could have caused the behavior. There was frustration, but that was to be expected. 

Around Derek, Stiles always scented at least a little of frustration. 

“You’ll be fine,” Derek huffed, because he wasn’t embarrassed at his loss of control. 

“What would Laura say, big guy?” Stiles was once again showing a level of tenacity that made Derek want to throw him out of the tent for the grizzlies to find. “What would your Alpha say about this? Tomorrow morning, when Laura finds out that her heartless brother let my fragile self sleep on the harsh forest floor… She is going to be heartbroken, dude. Heartbroken! You wouldn’t want to break your sister’s heart, right?” 

Could he actually lure a wild animal their way to let it scare the shit out of Stiles? Maybe then the rest of the week would go by a bit more smoothly. Derek was very aware of how ‘grumpy’ (Laura’s word, not his) he could get when he didn’t get enough sleep, and if Stiles was already testing him this much on the first night? That didn’t bode well for the next five nights. Because he was stuck with Stiles in his tent for a whole week. Stuck with Stiles for a whole week. 

There was a reason that Derek usually managed to avoid any lengthy pack bonding trips. As the Second, he usually decided that it was smart for someone to stay within range in case an emergency happened. Wasn’t there always an emergency in Beacon Hills? 

“Laura is going to be so disappointed in you,” Stiles made disappointed clucking noises, just to make Derek feel like even more of an asshole. “She’s going to give you that face, and you’re going to crumble like… a scared little puppy.” 

Because he somehow knew that it was totally going to work. Because it did work. Until Stiles mentioned the ‘scared little puppy’ thing, and Derek was filled with fury again. 

“Go ask some of the others for a spare bed roll,” Derek ordered Stiles. 

“You go, Sourwolf” Stiles just had to be contrary about that too. “You’re the one who broke it, so you should be the one who replaces it.” 

It wasn’t completely out there, which meant that if Derek made Stiles go outside, Laura was going to give him so much shit for letting the fragile human stumble through the clearing in the dark, barefoot and pouting. She would give him the disappointed face that always got to him and then remind him of just what his mother would have thought of him for doing something like this. And he’d fold like a cheap suit, because even though it had been over a decade, Derek still couldn’t stand even the idea of Talia Hale’s disapproval. 

“Don’t move,” Derek rolled his eyes and got out of his sleeping bag. “If I find out you’ve touched any of my things, I will drag you out of here by that rat’s nest you call hair and leave you outside as bait for the wild animals. What was it you said, a wild boar?” 

Even though he was hardly dressed to go outside, Derek didn’t want to roll around in a dark tent trying to grab clothes, or even dig through his stuff and get dressed outside. This was not going to take long, and maybe the cool night air would help him calm down a little, or be a deterrent from bickering with Laura about why they couldn’t just get along. 

Because for some reason, Laura seemed to think that was actually possible. 

“Say hi to Bambi for me,” Stiles sniped at him in return. 

“You and Scott are getting really disturbing with the nicknames,” Derek took another shot before power-walking away from their tent. 

The sex noises had died down a little while ago - thank God - but Derek was pretty sure that none of the wolves would have been able to sleep with the amount of noise that Stiles was making. So he felt no compunctions about being subtle while he stalked towards Laura’s tent. 

“I thought your control was better than that, little brother,” Laura proved him right, of course. 

“Don’t,” Derek was not in the mood. “Can I have the spare bed roll?” 

He knew his sister far too well to expect anything less than a perfectly planned trip, with the pack ready for any possible inconvenience. It wasn’t like it was the first time for anyone else, like it was for Derek. Not the first time he went camping, just the first time he went camping with this pack, with Laura as his Alpha instead of as just his pain in the ass sister. 

“I didn’t bring a spare,” Laura Parrish-Hale was a filthy fucking liar. 

“You always do,” Derek knew her far too well to let her get away with this. 

Even though he couldn’t actually hear a lie. But Laura had always been good at getting away with murder, finding tricks that allowed her to get away with lying to his face. To anyone’s face, really. Not that his sister was a pathological liar, it was just that she enjoyed messing with him and tricking his senses a little. She called it training, while Derek just called it an excuse for torture and riddles and leaving him outside in the cold. 

“There is no spare,” Laura was surprisingly straightforward about it this time. 

“I’m not giving him mine,” Derek hissed, making very sure he wasn’t speaking loud enough for Stiles to hear. “I will go back home if you make me sleep on the ground.” 

If Stiles heard any of this, he was going to be even more of an asshole about it than usual, probably pretending to wake up with a bad back in the morning and trying to get some pity from the non-human pack members. Because Derek didn’t look after him properly, even though Derek had refused that unspoken responsibility. 

There was no way that he was going to be in any way responsible for Stiles’ wellbeing. Not when he could barely stand him long enough to be responsible for his safety. That being the reason that they absolutely could not sleep alone in a tent. 

Another vicious lie from Laura, obviously. 

“Who said you’d have to sleep on the ground?” Laura was being vague again, just to mess with him. “I know you weren’t sick that day in kindergarten when they explained sharing.” 

Sharing. Not just sharing a tent with Stiles, but sharing a bed with him as well. Pulling him far too close as they shared a single bed roll, with Stiles wriggling against him the whole time. With every single one of Derek’s things reeking of Stiles, and of the two of them together, getting his instincts all tied up in knots. Stiles, all around him,  _ touching _ him. 

Derek’s personal hell made real. By his own hands. Or more accurately, his own claws. 

“Laura,” Derek whined, a proper plea now. 

“Get over yourself, little brother,” Laura was not going to let him find any kind of loophole, apparently. “I know you’re all tied up in knots when it comes to our resident researcher, but you need to get over yourself. It’s just a few days. Stiles is only acting like this because you’re the only one he can still get to like this. It’s classic pulling pigtails.” 

No matter what Laura was going on about, this wasn’t actually kindergarten. They were adults - even Stiles qualified as an adult by now, with his college diploma and the sudden ability to grow facial hair, and the way he’d somehow filled out since the last time Derek had seen him. 

And that was really not something he was going to acknowledge. 

“I don’t have any damn pigtails,” Derek grumbled to himself. 

“Well he could pull something else,” Laura did enjoy her innuendo. “If he’s gentle.” 

Yep, that was definitely a joke about Stiles pulling on his dick, because apparently Laura was immature enough to still have the sense of humor of a thirteen year old boy. Which had been hilarious when Derek had been a thirteen year old boy. But now that he was approaching thirty, it was just a lot less funny. Especially when the jokes somehow always seemed to involve Derek’s personal life, and his lack of a love life and sex life. 

God forbid he liked it that way. 

“I hate you,” Derek told Laura, before marching back to his own tent. 

Not just his own, though. His and Stiles’. Their tent, their bed, their home for the upcoming week. An entire week. Of sharing a bed with Stiles. 

Derek was still trying to work through it when he got back in, trying not to be awkward about maneuvering himself back onto his bed roll and making room for Stiles. There was no real room to be made, but he was at least going to give it a try. If he didn’t try, that would have meant that he’d given up. And that was not something that he was going to do so easily. 

He wiggled a little, trying to get comfortable laying on his side, even though he preferred to sprawl a bit more when he slept. But there was no room for Derek to take up room, unless he wanted to sleep with Stiles actually on top of him. 

And that? That was never going to happen. So this was the best it was going to get. 

“Move,” Derek ordered. 

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to move?” Stiles was obviously enjoying this. “You told me not to move just now and not to touch any of your things. I’ve been a good boy, Sourwolf. I’d like my reward now. Or, if that’s not an option, I’d at least like to know where I’m moving to. Not all of us can hear every word in your little wolf-y pow-wows. What’s the plan, man?”

Great, he was rhyming now. Wonderful. 

And of course Stiles had to use dozens of words when just a few would do. Of course he had to pretend to be confused about what Derek was doing, just for whatever twisted enjoyment Stiles apparently got out of making Derek explain that they were going to be sleeping together. 

“Come here,” Derek just gave Stiles another order. “We’re sharing.” 

The groan he got in response to that statement was both completely understandable and kind of offensive, because while Derek absolutely had a laundry list of reasons why sleeping with Stiles was going to be a fucking nightmare, Stiles had nothing to worry about. The few people that Derek allowed himself to sleep close to had told him that he was an ideal bedfellow. 

Or, in Laura’s words, a boring idiot who zonked out the second his face hit the pillow. 

“Your sister clearly hates me,” Stiles wasn’t remotely subtle, muttering those words. 

“I’m the one she’s torturing,” Derek had to refute. “Now will you just move? I don’t like it any more than you do. I like it  _ less _ than you do. So let’s get it over with.” 

Stiles started moving, and somehow managed to get to Derek’s side of the small tent without getting too tangled in his sleeping bag. He was wiggling already, trying to scoot over while still wrapped in the bright red sleeping bag - because the asshole liked the Red Riding Hood jokes that he could make because of it. It had been the whole reason for the dozen red hoodies Stiles owned, worn around Derek because Stiles knew it annoyed him. 

Somehow Stiles always knew what would annoy Derek. 

“Do you want me face to face?” Stiles was apparently just as much of a thirteen year old boy as Laura was. “Or do you like me better from the back? Spoon me, Sourwolf.” 

Spooning was probably the most efficient, and Stiles had apparently figured that out as well. He didn’t even let Derek answer before turning around, pressing back against Derek like the floor beside the bed roll was actually lava. 

Well, if only. That would have been nice. That was going to make a nice dream. 

For now, though, he had to pull Stiles close to him, just to keep him from damaging anything with his uncontrolled movements. He had to wrap his arms around Stiles’ no longer all that lanky body - because he didn’t want his arms to get trapped between their bodies. That way lied only terrible things - even though they might not have been as terrible as having Stiles’ ass pressed tightly against his groin. 

Not because of Stiles. But because some reactions were involuntary and had nothing to do with the person and everything to do with the warmth and the wriggling and writhing. 

“Shut up, stop wiggling, and go to sleep,” Derek pulled him even closer. 

Because… Because… He didn’t actually know why, but it was probably because that was the only way he’d be able to make sure that Stiles didn’t start flailing and moving around in his sleep again. Maybe this way he was going to escape another smack to the head. 

“Would you rather be the little spoon?” Stiles just had to ask that. 

“I’d rather keep you hogtied,” Derek responded. “But this will do. Less chance of you breaking out and attacking me again. Because only you could attack people in your sleep.” 

At least Derek healed quickly. At least he wasn’t actually going to wake up with any kind of permanent damage. Maybe with the need for some bleach for his brain, but there was going to be no permanent physical damage. Therapy would deal with the rest. 

Derek took a deep breath and tried not to notice how that made his chest press even closer to Stiles’ back. Or how his breath was ruffling the hair at the nape of Stiles’ neck. 

All of that? Wasn’t happening. 

“You’re special too,” Stiles just had to get the last word in. “You’re the only one I’ll attack.” 

That was not a compliment. That was in no way a compliment. 

Of course it wasn’t. This was Stiles. 

And this was just the first night. 

* * *

DAY 2, 9:13 AM:

The knowing looks were the worst part of it. 

This was the second time in a row that Derek got out of the tent only to find himself faced with their gloating, and their stupidly knowing looks. When he woke up an hour ago and untangled himself from Stiles for the first time, they were already there, waiting for him. Staring and gloating as if they knew just what had happened. Because Derek was basically see-through to them, even the pack members who didn’t have any supernatural senses. 

No wonder he’d gone right back to the tent the first time. 

“Walk of shame,” Erica muttered, just loud enough for Stiles to hear. 

That was not nearly as hilarious as Erica thought it was, but the entire pack was still laughing at it. Sure, Derek hadn’t been looking forward to being a third wheel (or whatever odd number wheel he was in a group of this size), but the way they were all ganging up on him now was starting to make him rethink ever coming with them. 

But it was because he was starting to become an outsider in his own pack that Laura had basically forced him to join all of them for this trip. It was because Derek didn’t really have any actual friends within the pack (or outside of it), keeping himself apart from all the couples and the group activities and especially apart from any forced interactions with Stiles, because there was just something about that guy that just… got to Derek. 

“I don’t have any shame,” Stiles shrugged in response. 

“You really should,” Derek rolled his eyes. “You have more reason for it than the rest of us combined.” 

Everything about Stiles was something that Derek would have been embarrassed about. Derek valued his control, and Stiles had never something outrageous that he didn’t like. Stiles didn’t care about staying in control, about being calm and controlled and… Did he mention control? 

Stiles was chaos and imperfection and embarrassment, and Derek couldn’t stand it. 

“Do you want me to tell them about how you broke the bed?” Stiles threatened, even though there was only one obvious way it could have happened. 

And the entire pack already knew, because most of them had heard it when it happened, and the others had been informed of it rather quickly. Because it was just hilarious to have stone faced Derek screwing up when it came to control. It was extremely funny that the guy who was supposed to be in control at all time had popped a claw at an inopportune time. 

Maybe it would have been funny to Derek if it had happened to someone else. 

“They all know already,” Derek didn’t get whatever joke this was supposed to be. 

“It was all the athletic sex,” Stiles nodded at him and then started spouting outrageous lies for no real reason. “I’m just a poor human, so what was I supposed to do against that sexy wall of muscle? No one could say no to that, and well, with all of this in front of him, how was Der-Bear supposed to resist? That’s right, he couldn’t.” 

Stiles had been motioning at his own body for ‘all of this’, because of course he thought that was just hilarious. He probably figured out some of the thoughts that Derek had been having and he was now mocking him for them in front of the entire pack. Because even for all of Stiles’ faults - and there were so very many that Derek had long since gotten tired of listing all of them - his physical appearance was not one of them. 

And boy did Derek hate that. That his body could like Stiles’ body, while his mind was so adamant that Stiles was a pain in the ass who should be far away from him at all times. 

“Tell me more, tell me more,” Erica was clearly aware of the lies, but for some reason she was too amused to stop Stiles’ ramblings. “Did you get very far? Does he have a car?” 

Erica was now actively encouraging Stiles to tell lies about what had happened in their tent over the past night. Because she’d always been one of Stiles’ favorite co-conspirators, especially when it came to something like this. Scott, who was far too open about his own love life even at the best of times, got surprisingly prudish when it came to what Stiles was doing and who he was doing it with. Erica gladly shared details with anyone who would listen, and wasn’t afraid to ask for the same from her friends. Stiles gladly indulged her. 

“I wouldn’t want to besmirch Derek’s virtue with all of you listening in,” Stiles put a hand to his chest and gasped dramatically. “My boo deserves better than that. Rose petals, bubble baths, an actual bed. Not a water bed, because that’s a claw risk.” 

Everything always came back to making fun of Derek. It always did, and they just seemed to delight in the way he grumbled at it and occasionally even blushed if it got really bad. An involuntary response that he particularly hated to see. He preferred anger and growling, because it was less vulnerable. He didn’t like being forced to be vulnerable. 

“You’re a bit late for that,” Laura had to intervene, just to make it worse. 

That was never supposed to be a joke, and Laura knew it. 

Derek turned to his sister, eyes blazing, promising a world of pain if she dared to mention anything else about Derek’s non-existent virtue and how it had gotten compromised in the first place. Because there was nothing funny about being tricked and manipulated, about being an uncontrolled idiot who let himself get pawed at (and wasn’t that just the most awful turn of phrase for this?) because he thought that was what he was supposed to do. 

Laura visibly startled at the look, and made a vaguely apologetic gesture. Which meant that he was going to get an apology later. A sincere one this time, because Laura knew when she’d crossed actual lines, ones that hid a whole lot of damage and fragility. 

Stiles however, seemed to be perfectly in his element in the midst of this faked judgment about his non-existent designs on Derek’s non-existent virtue. He was smiling and goading them all, as if he actually enjoyed that they’d think he’d sleep with someone he disliked. Or perhaps even hated a little. Derek wouldn’t be surprised if Stiles hated him. 

“Derek, baby, sweetie, darling,” Stiles turned back to Derek, golden eyes positively sparkling with mirth. “I thought we were going to wait. Both of us. Until we were ready.” 

After the ‘I just had sex’ cake, or the ‘congrats on the sex’ cake, or whatever that thing had been called, no one would have been able to convincingly accuse Stiles of wanting to wait. Or of being in any way virtuous or innocent. Also, Derek had trouble thinking of Stiles as patient, whatever it was related to. Impulsive seemed like the better word. 

“Please, Stilinski,” Jackson had to add his two cents as well. “Sadly, we all know that you’re the furthest thing from virtuous. But since I haven’t seen you bring out any cake from your lovenest, I think Derek’s virtue is safe for the time being.” 

One of the many reasons why Derek wasn’t even going to acknowledge whatever messed up non-hatred feelings he had for Stiles was that Stiles was not going to take it seriously at all. If Stiles dared to bring out any kind of cake after Derek said or did anything, he was going to leave Beacon Hills and never come back. Mexico was probably lovely this time of year, and he was fluent in Spanish so it wouldn’t even be any trouble. 

Even this conversation was making him itchy, was making him want to run. 

“Alright, I’ve had enough talk about my baby brother’s virtue,” Laura was pretending to be a whole lot more disgusted than she actually was. “I can’t hear this. Change the subject.” 

Judging by the look Laura gave him after saying that, she thought he owed her a massive favor for doing this, even though it was at least half her fault that they were even talking about it in the first place. Because that was just what Laura was like, and Derek was more than used to it after living his entire life bartering in favors. He had a whole bunch of them saved up, because he was usually the one saving Laura from whatever embarrassing situation she’d gotten herself into, whether personally or with another pack. Sure, she was the Alpha, but that really did not mean that she was the most diplomatic of them all. That was clearly Boyd. 

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles mockingly nodded at Laura. “Of course, Alpha.” 

Stiles was even bowing exaggeratedly, being as dramatic about showing his respect to the Alpha as he possibly could. Even though human pack members did not have to adhere to any werewolf honor code. Sure, they had to know how important being part of a pack was, but they were not involved in sparring unless it was with other humans. And since it wasn’t instinctive to them like it was to wolves, they didn’t actually need to use the title. 

And Stiles usually didn’t. He didn’t like authority all that much, even if it was Laura. 

“That’s how you know that he’s making fun of you,” Erica remarked. “When he’s using actual titles and acting positively humble and serious. That’s how we’d know if there was a shapeshifter or if he was possessed. The lack of embarrassing comments.” 

That was a recurring joke, after the rest of the pack (Derek had conveniently escaped at just the right time) had done a marathon of various shapeshifter and pod people movies and television episodes. They’d all developed a series of ridiculous code words, and started listing traits that would be their tell at the most random of times. 

Derek was pretty sure Laura was the only one who’d be able to tell if something happened to him. If the creature possessing him had a reasonably convincing resting bitchface, the rest of the pack would buy it without another thought. Because he didn’t have a sense of humor. 

According to them, anyway. 

“I’ll show you embarrassing,” Stiles just had to rise to the challenge. 

“You will show us nothing,” Jackson already had his hands over his eyes. “I don’t want to see a damn thing that you’d want to show us. I will destroy you, Stilinski.” 

Empty threats, because Jackson was all talk and no action. He’d threatened Stiles so much at this point that Stiles would have long since been maimed if Jackson had any kind of follow-through. Which he clearly didn’t, because Stiles was alive and well. 

“Derek is the only one who likes looking at you naked,” Erica just was not letting this go. 

That read as a lie. 

And now Derek was going to spend the rest of the day worrying that Erica had figured out his embarrassing thing for Stiles. All physical, of course. He couldn’t stand him. 

* * *

DAY 3, 2:12 PM:

Apparently Laura did not think it was enough that Derek was sleeping with Stiles every night and sharing meals with the pack. No, he had to spend all his available time with them, even though he’d brought a couple of books to occupy himself with while they all acted like children and alerted everyone and everything to their presence in these woods. 

Subtle they were not. 

Which was why Laura had them play stealth games. And because she still seemed to think that Derek owed her for the half a dozen times she’d changed the topic away from Derek’s non-existent virtue and Stiles’ grabby hands on him, she’d put Stiles on his team. Derek was pretty sure that she was just hoping that Stockholm Syndrome would have set in by the end of the week. So that they could all just get along. 

Because she thought that Derek being annoyed by Stiles was a pack problem that needed to be solved. And that was wrong. It was no one’s problem, and it couldn’t be solved. 

“Alright team building,” Stiles chanted as they waited for the other teams to make their way further into the woods. “So, since I’m clearly the brains of the operation and not the stealth, I should be the one staying at basecamp, with one of the wolves here to share messages so we can avoid the walkie-talkies as much as possible. How far is your range?” 

Boyd and Erica just let Stiles go on, waiting for him to get to the point already. Even though Stiles was the only human in their group, he still naturally gravitated to a leadership position, because he was the one with the ideas. Even though Derek was used to being a second in command, that didn’t make him in any way comfortable with actually stepping into Laura’s shoes for a while and being the leader. He was perfectly happy being a beta. 

Stiles, however, Stiles liked the spotlight and the pressures of leadership. He excelled in a crunch, when there was not enough time and they had to go out there on a whim and a prayer - because by the time they’d actually gotten to the threat, Stiles had always come up with a plan that played to everyone’s strengths. Derek assumed that it would be the same now. 

“Far enough,” Boyd nodded, as if he knew what Stiles was getting at. 

“Derek, you should stay with Stiles,” Erica was also following along with the plan, but she just had to add a twist of her own. “You’re the best at protecting him, and Boyd and I are really good at communicating with each other without words. So, two at home base, and two scouts.” 

Capture the flag was probably not what anyone had been expecting, but Laura had been positively delighted. She’d split the pack into three groups of four and given them each two flags to guard. Each group had gotten a GPS location for their base camp, and they had to keep the flags at least near that camp - no one was allowed to move them after the game had started. Only the other teams were allowed to grab it and take it back to their home base - but only if they were able to do so without being detected by anyone from another team. 

“Excellent,” Stiles grinned his not remotely terrifying evil grin. 

The trick was to be stealthy, and not to let yourself get caught. And seeing as every player was only allowed to carry one flag at a time, it was going to involve a lot of moving back and forth through the woods. 

Not for Derek and Stiles though. No, they had to stay close to camp - close to the campsite which had been assigned their location. Someone had to guard the flag, and maybe even lay out some fake tracks for the people trying to follow scents to the basecamp they were trying to rob. The guards mostly needed to watch out for others - which was something Derek was good at. And they needed to trick people, which was right up Stiles’ alley. 

He’d figured out dozens of ways to hide himself from the wolves over the years. Derek honestly wished Stiles would try out some of those tricks on him instead of being right in his face all the damn time, practically shouting at Derek to notice him. 

“You two should leave,” Stiles motioned at Erica and Boyd. “It’s best if you two genuinely don’t know where we hide the flags. That way you can’t accidentally lead people to them, or reveal anything to the freaky werewolf lie detectors on the other team. May the force be with you.” 

The salute Stiles did after that had nothing to do with Star Wars, and it surprised Derek that someone who claimed to be a massive Star Wars fan would throw in a Star Trek salute for no real reason. Other than to annoy Derek, probably. 

It was a good thing Boyd had always run off. He would have been annoyed too. 

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” Erica saluted before running off after her mate. 

Derek had heard that one once or twice before, but it didn’t really strike a chord, so he didn’t bother trying to figure it out. Instead he watched Erica run off, tracked her until even his sight was insufficient, and then turned to Stiles, ready to get annoyed. Because Stiles had barely been able to stay quiet long enough to let Boyd and Erica leave. 

“Alright, tell me what you scent,” Stiles waved the flags at Derek. “We need to make sure that wherever they end up, they actually blend in. It’s why I’m touching them as little as possible.” 

Since Boyd and Erica were on the edge of Derek’s earshot, he motioned for Stiles to shut the hell up for a little while longer. And for once, Stiles actually listened. 

It was tempting to keep it up for a bit longer than necessary. But Derek still wanted to win. 

“Jordan and Laura,” Derek pointed at the slightly more ragged flag. 

Stiles nodded, apparently actively trying to minimize his rambling as he took the very edge of the flag between his fingers. His covered fingers, because Stiles had managed to create a makeshift mitten in the attempt of transferring less of his scent onto the flag. He then moved towards Laura and Jordan’s tent, obviously hoping to dump the flag there. 

Slowly but surely - because this was Stiles at least attempting to be somewhat stealthy, he stepped closer to the tent, but he stopped before he got to the entrance. Instead, Stiles moved to the side a little, gently placing the flag between the outer and inner tent, making it almost undetectable from a distance - and the scent had mingled with the scent of the tent and of the crazy amount of sex that had been happening in there that Derek had been unfortunate enough to overhear. Because Laura didn’t give a hoot about boundaries. 

It was amusing to watch Stiles attempt stealth, though, watching him walk backwards, trying to step in his own footsteps, before realizing that it was better if his footsteps were all over the place, so the other groups wouldn’t be able to track his every move. So he started running back and forth all over the camp, leaving their other flag in plain sight the whole time. 

So Derek moved towards the flag, trying to place the familiar scent on it. 

“Fuck,” he whispered when he figured it out. 

Because he knew exactly where it had picked up that scent. And it suddenly made sense why Laura had been lurking around their tent earlier, even though she should have had much better things to do than to annoy Derek. Though really, it wasn’t even too out of character for her. 

Still, Derek was pissed. Because this flag was absolutely drenched in their scent. In Derek and Stiles and in the way their scents had mixed a little because they’d been sleeping together (just sleeping, only ever sleeping) for the past two nights. Because Derek had wrapped Stiles in his arms and Stiles had wiggled close and distracted Derek from the disgusting thoughts he’d been thinking just so he wouldn’t outwardly react to Stiles’ proximity. 

The flag had clearly been in their tent last night, and perhaps even the night before that. It reeked of sexual frustration and sweat too, of all the embarrassing thoughts that Derek was never going to admit to, not to anyone - least of all Stiles. 

He moved towards their tent, avoiding Stiles’ random criss-crossing of their campground so that he could also avoid having to talk to Stiles about what he was doing and why he was doing it. 

“You’re not a very subtle lizard, Jackson,” Stiles hollered out of nowhere. 

So the first enemy had been sighted. And since it was Jackson, Derek felt completely comfortable using that word. 

“Fuck you, Stilinski,” was the response. 

It made Derek move a little faster, because there was no way that Jackson had come alone - he was probably just the diversion. No doubt Lydia was staying behind at their camp, fulfilling a role similar to Stiles’, perhaps even joined by Allison. Which meant that Isaac was close. 

Derek made sure to move faster, using a burst of supernatural speed but also honing his reflexes to make sure that he didn’t mess anything up. It was tempting to go right back inside the tent, zip it up and pretend this stupid game wasn’t happening, but he was pretty damn sure that all three of his teammates would murder him for it. And then Stiles would bring him back just to murder him again. That was how insanely competitive he was. 

“That scarf doesn’t go with that tree, Isaac,” Erica spoke just a few seconds later. 

Sure, that wasn’t loud enough for Stiles to hear, but it worked well enough. Derek quickly moved away from the tent and tried to get a line of sight on Stiles, to give him the nod that meant that their flag was secured. Surely Stiles would understand that much without using actual words. 

Stiles was still moving around, albeit at a leisurely pace, trying to create traces of his scent all over the camp, annoyingly like a dog trying to mark their territory. It made something inside Derek itch, made some of his more feral instincts sit up and take notice and howl, because the human had marked all of this place as his and his alone and…

Nope, he wasn’t even going to consider how much better it would smell with both their scents. He was just going to keep moving to create his own scent tracks all over the camp, trying to keep an eye out for the other teams at the same time. And making sure that Stiles didn’t brain himself on something because he too was trying to multitask. And unlike the wolves, Stiles had a bit more trouble trying to walk gracefully and keep an eye out. 

No one was ever going to describe Stiles as any kind of graceful. 

When Stiles next caught his eye - he kept glancing at Derek from time to time with a weird, unreadable look on his face that didn’t actually seem to mean anything in the context of their game - Derek adjusted an imaginary scarf and then made an X in front of his chest, just quick enough for Stiles to see it. Isaac had been busted. 

“Do we have to be quiet the whole time?” Stiles was already impatient, apparently. 

“It would help,” Derek sighed. 

Of course Stiles just lived to make his life even more difficult. Of course Stiles was going to sabotage himself and their entire team by getting impatient and bored. Derek wasn’t really surprised, and barely even disappointed, because his expectations for Stiles were pretty much accurate: bursts of hyper-competitive behavior followed by boredom. Stiles had started smelling less and less of his medication over the past few days. 

Which meant that it was probably only going to get worse from here. 

“Why do you hate me?” Stiles was apparently not playing around anymore. 

Great, now they were going to have to get into that, even though they were in the middle of a game that Derek was pretty sure Stiles felt like he needed to win. Was this his attempt at self-sabotage or was this a different tactic he was trying out? Did he think that this was a private moment for them to discuss? Because there was no such thing as privacy in a pack. Not really. 

“This is not the time,” Derek hissed from between clenched teeth. 

“Dude, they won’t come back for a while,” Stiles shrugged, suddenly far too casual. “Erica is too busy trying to catch everyone who even gets close, and Boyd is stealthing his way to all of the flags. But he’s being subtle. Scoping out the camps first. We have time.” 

So Stiles had discussed strategies with Erica and Boyd and not with Derek. He hadn’t even bothered trying to loop Derek in on the plan, as if it didn’t matter. As if Derek was the outsider again, not a full member of the team, of the pack. And that was fine. Derek could totally deal with that. He’d follow the plan they’d laid out for him - without his damn input - and then get his distance after dinner before he was forced to share a bed with Stiles yet again. 

Somehow that hadn’t actually gotten any easier yet. 

“Derek,” Stiles whined, extending the vowels in his name beyond recognition. 

“No,” Derek refused to play along with this. 

He also was not going to use any more words than he absolutely had to. Because even though Stiles was far too sure that no one would attempt to come near their camp, Derek was still on the look-out, still listening for Erica’s calls. There had been a few of them already. She’d already spotted Scott - far too easily, apparently - and then later Laura as well. Jordan was the trickiest one of that crew, which meant that Kira was the only one at their camp. Something Erica had probably passed on to Boyd. 

When Stiles still didn’t relent, Derek crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You’re hurting my feelings,” Stiles pouted. 

That was not a lie. It wasn’t a truth, but it also wasn’t a lie. And that did not make sense at all. 

Stiles didn’t give a rat’s ass about what Derek thought of him, so clearly the pouting and the talk of having hurt Stiles’ feelings was actually complete bullshit. But also, Stiles was trying to make himself sound more calm than he actually was, because no matter how much he thought that he was joking, he was actually a little hurt at Derek’s continued dismissal of him. 

Somehow, Derek had actually managed to hurt his feelings. And he didn’t know how to feel about that, didn’t know if he should feel something about that. 

“I’m sorry?” Derek said, and he was pretty sure it came out as more of a question. 

“Shame I’m not a werewolf lie detector,” Stiles looked at him far too closely, even though he was still moving through the camp in seemingly random patterns. “Maybe that way I’d be able to tell if you actually gave a damn about little old me. Do you care more than you let on, Der-Bear?” 

He probably did feel a little bad about hurting Stiles’ feelings. Because even though the guy was an absolute pain in his ass, Derek didn’t usually go out of his way to be an asshole to him - unless Stiles started it, and he usually did. But Derek was better than that, and no matter how confusing and tangled up his feelings for Stiles had gotten (especially over these past few days), Derek was not going to turn into his uncle. He was not that kind of man. 

“You’re such a pain,” Derek groaned. 

“And that’s not a no,” Stiles was positively delighted. “If you actually didn’t give a damn about me, you would have just told me so. Jackson does, only he’s a filthy liar because I’m basically his best friend since Danny left. It’s so weird that he’s just disappeared, out of nowhere. Like, one day he was here, and one day it was like everyone just forgot he existed. That he ever even went to our school. He didn’t even finish high school with us.” 

Derek stayed silent, because he honestly had no idea what the hell he was supposed to say to that. He vaguely remembered the boy that Stiles was talking about, mostly because he’d helped the pack with a hacking-related emergency once, and even though Derek could scent exactly how attracted the boy was to him, he’d never treated him any differently. He’d been kind and pleasant the whole time, and he’d gotten the job done quickly and efficiently. 

How a guy like that had been best friends with Jackson Whittemore was the true mystery. 

“We’ve gotten really off track,” Stiles remarked, still grinning at him. “But at least you’re actually talking to me for once. It’s a miracle. Especially with Laura not around to force you.” 

There was no way that Derek was going to acknowledge just how much of his daily social interaction was enforced by Laura. Because it was weird to have those kinds of orders from his sister and Alpha, and it would seem even weirder to someone who was obviously very comfortable talking to - or at least talking at - people. It just didn’t come naturally to Derek, and he didn’t want it to. He didn’t get along with people. That was just who he was. 

“I talk to people,” Derek felt compelled to argue. 

“Maybe for work,” Stiles seemed to have a handle on what Derek was like. “But you don’t act like you’re part of the pack. You don’t seem to like anyone. Except Laura, from time to time. And maybe Jordan, as long as he treats your sister well. You used to talk to Isaac, but then he started dating Allison. You respect Boyd, but you keep a healthy distance from Erica. You would be Kira’s friend, except you don’t like Scott and he really doesn’t like you. You don’t like Jackson, but I’m probably your least favorite.” 

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? To Stiles seeing right through him with such ease and just laying it all out in the open? There was nothing he could say to that. 

Except the last bit. Because while his feelings about Stiles were messy and tangled up and all around confusing, Derek was pretty sure that he wasn’t actually his least favorite pack member. And not just because Peter was technically still part of their pack, even though no one invited him on trips like this - thank God, that was the only thing that could have made it worse. No, not just because of Peter. Because of Scott, probably, and Jackson maybe. 

Stiles might have been annoying, but he was useful to the pack, and he made people laugh. The entire pack was happier when he was around, and at some point that started applying to Derek as well. Because Stiles grinned and prodded and poked and Derek found himself wanting to yield, wanting to stray from his carefully set routines. 

He found himself wanting to… reach out. 

Oh no. So  _ that  _ was why he didn’t like being near Stiles. 

This was the perfect time to have that realization. In the middle of a week where he was forced to spend all of his time with Stiles, to sleep in the same tent every night, to cuddle him close because it actually helped him sleep better. It was the worst of times. 

* * *

DAY 4, 1:47 PM: 

Things had not gotten better, and Derek was pretty sure that they never would. 

He’d barely slept the night before, Stiles pressed far too close to him even though he complained about being too hot every single morning. He could have pushed Derek away, or found another way to sleep comfortably, but no. He was perfectly content being held close to Derek’s body, even though Derek was basically dying because of it. 

He  _ liked _ Stiles. Annoyances and all. Including the embarrassing behavior and the jokes about Derek’s virtue and the cake - it had been a very delicious cake. He remembered that much. 

“Talk to me some more about your evil plans,” Stiles verbally prodded Laura. “Do the reigning champions of capture the flag get a bonus in today’s games? What are we doing today?” 

Yes, they’d won the game, because Stiles had been right. Boyd and Erica’s strategy had worked quite well, and their faked scent trails had helped keep their flags hidden for quite a while, though the Laura and Jordan flag had been stolen eventually. The Stiles and Derek flag - the flag that Stiles called the ‘Sterek’ flag, had been safe inside their tent the whole time. Lydia had claimed that their team had an unfair advantage, and Derek had to agree, even though Laura did not seem to agree. Because she’d upheld the initial result. Their win. 

And now Stiles was bargaining for some kind of prize, that shit. Derek was not amused by it. 

Only he was, and that was the truly embarrassing part. Because he didn’t know how to act anymore since he’d figured out his stupid feelings. He didn’t know how to act as if nothing had changed, and so he found himself second-guessing absolutely everything he was doing because he wasn’t sure if he’d done the same thing if he hadn’t figured out that he didn’t actually hate Stiles. That he was actually interested in Stiles. 

Yes, he was going to keep repeating that to himself until it sounded even remotely believable. 

“You’re shameless,” Lydia had turned out to be a sore loser. “And a cheater.” 

The only one who found the pouting attractive was Jackson - probably because he was pouting even more than Lydia was. And while Derek understood Lydia’s frustration, he knew that it wouldn’t be right to question the Alpha’s motives. Even though he knew that she’d had other motives for letting them win, or just for giving them an advantage. 

Still, the campsite still smelled of Stiles and Derek, and it was killing him. He was surprised that none of the others had said anything about it, though. They really should have. 

“Laura said we won fair and square,” Stiles gloated - and it should not have been attractive. 

“Alpha has the deciding vote,” Laura was also a little smug. “But no, no advantages for the winners. Because there will be different teams today. We’re playing in duos.” 

Well, Derek already knew where this was going. No one could say that his sister was not persistent when it came to her incredibly unsubtle matchmaking efforts. Sure, Derek hadn’t realized it had been matchmaking at first, because he thought it had merely been about forcing him to deal with his annoyance. That was just what older sisters did. 

“Couples?” Stiles asked, jumping to the same conclusions. 

“Of course,” Laura pretended to be the picture of innocence as she laid out her evil schemes to the group. “Or you could mix it up if you want to. We’re doing mostly trust exercises, so going outside of your comfort zone would be beneficial to the pack.” 

Yeah, so it was going to be all cliques and best friends and Derek was angry and frustrated and scared because he was pretty damn sure that Laura had chosen the activity just to torture him some more. He’d expected something cheesy like playing the Newlywed Game, with Laura trying to show him how he already knew so much about Stiles and Stiles probably knew more about Derek than he’d expect him to, and voila. Matchmaking. 

This? This was straight-up forcing him to deal with some of the things he was holding close to his chest. Even though he did it for a reason. Even though he had very valid reasons for not trusting most people, and for keeping himself at a distance. 

“Derek’s mine,” Stiles said, and flushed a little at his own vehemence. 

“Get it, Stilinski,” Erica whooped as she abandoned Boyd and grabbed Kira instead. “Some of us aren’t using this exercise as a way to get laid, though.” 

Scott was hilariously disappointed that his favorite partner had been stolen out from under him, and even more disappointed that Isaac had been claimed by Lydia, of all people. Allison had partnered up with Jordan (smart, because most of the wolves were still leery of her, for good reason), and Laura had motioned Boyd over with a grin on her face. 

That left Scott with Jackson. Sometimes his sister was truly devious to other people as well. Though it was beneficial for the pack if those too finally got over their high school bullshit. 

“I’m disappointed,” Kira was smiling far too widely for that to be believable. 

“You’re disappointed?” Jackson was clearly feeling wronged. 

Stiles was snickering far too much at all of the drama, and Derek found himself pleased that he’d been claimed so quickly, even though it stirred up all kinds of concerns about trusting Stiles with his emotions and his physical safety. Though honestly, Derek could have done a whole lot worse. If his sister really wanted to torture him, she would have made him partner with Scott or even Allison. That was much more than he was willing to do for the foreseeable future. 

He didn’t hate Allison. He just really didn’t trust her. 

“Poor baby,” Stiles was happy to mock Jackson, as usual. “You were co-captains of the lacrosse team for like, a season and a half, and that still didn’t help you get over your issues. Time to get with the program now. Besides, Scott’s awesome.” 

Derek was not going to be surprised if those two started fighting about who’d been a better friend to Stiles at some point, but that was probably part of Laura’s plans. She’d probably coached some of the pack members. Jordan was not going to pick Allison without Laura’s interference, and Lydia and Isaac? Also manipulated somehow, even though Derek had been pretty sure that Laura had been hoping for a Lydia and Erica match-up. There was some kind of grudge going on there as well, and it was past time for a resolution. 

But it was not for Derek to say something about that. 

“Thanks, dude,” Scott just had to say that. 

“Save the compliments for your partner,” Laura said, and Derek could have sworn that he actually felt the shiver go down his spine. “We’re going to do the compliments game later.” 

Sometimes he really did wonder if his sister was actively trying to torture him. Not just kill him, because that was just any day that ended in -y, but actively trying to torture him. Because giving out compliments to Stiles was bad enough, like pulling teeth, probably, even though there were good things he could say about Stiles. But having to sit here and receive sincere compliments from Stiles about who he was as a person… That was the true torture. 

“We’re going to kick ass at that,” Stiles told him, clearly not reading the room. “Dude, I have all the compliments about you, and I’m sure you can think of at least a couple things about me that you don’t completely hate. So we’re already beating Scott and Jackson.” 

And here Derek thought that this part was not going to be a competition. Clearly he hadn’t taken the lesson about Stiles’ insane competitive behavior to heart after yesterday. He should have. 

“We’re going to start out very simple,” Laura was running this thing like she was the host of some terrible TV program. “With I never. Now I know you’d all prefer to get wasted, but we’re going to try to remain sober for once. Because there are trust exercises coming up that we need to be clear headed for. I’ll know if you cheat. So don’t. Instead of shots, we’ll all put out a fist. Every time you have done a thing, you’ll put one finger down on the table. First person with all five out on the table ends the game. And remember, don’t be a dick.” 

Well, clearly Laura did not know her audience. Because there was no way that Jackson was not going to get painfully specific about the things he said to Scott, and it was most likely going to end in a massive brawl that Laura was going to have to break up. 

“I never….,” Stiles was already starting.

“Wait,” Derek said. “Just give me a minute. Please.” 

It was more polite than he’d ever been to Stiles, so of course he was more than a little surprised about that. Stiles was almost gaping at Derek, trying to put some kind of puzzle together until he’d figured out just what had spooked Derek so much that he needed some time to compose himself before they started a seemingly harmless game. 

“Whenever you’re ready, dude,” Stiles was forcibly casual now. 

Derek took a deep breath, and then another. He tried frantically to think of fun topics, of something easy that he would say, something that they could both laugh about. But the things he knew about Stiles were random and varied, and mostly tied into supernatural battles and/or information that should never be discussed in lighthearted games like this. And Stiles knew far too much sensitive information about Derek as well. 

So perhaps this was where the trust portion of this activity came in. They both knew just what to say to cause maximum damage, and had to trust each other not to use it. 

Another deep breath, and he nodded at Stiles, giving him the go-ahead. 

“I never got so drunk I puked,” Stiles proudly said. 

Since Derek had never developed a taste for the wolfsbane infused liquor that most werewolves turned to in order to get drunk, he didn’t put a finger down either. He didn’t like being that out of control, didn’t like the idea of his mind being muddled and being unable to control what he was doing or saying - so he just didn’t drink. Somehow Stiles wasn’t surprised about that, it seemed, because he just shrugged and let Derek have his turn. 

Had Stiles given him a softball question on purpose? 

“I’ve never been grounded,” Derek admitted then. 

“Dude, I might as well hold out all five fingers now,” Stiles laughed. “I’ve gotten grounded so many times. And not just when I was a kid. You don’t even know. Even before I found out about werewolves.” 

It was easy to let himself smile a little at that. Because no, from what he knew of Stiles that was not all that surprising. That had probably been how the whole Boy Scout thing ended as well, with Stiles grounded and his parents - or just his Dad - sighing heavily. 

“I never played Spin the Bottle,” Stiles went for another softball. 

Derek put down his first finger, because he remembered middle school parties, being fourteen and a cocky little shit and thinking he was all that. He remembered how embarrassed he’d been after his first kiss, because it had just been weird and he’d wondered why people liked it. He remembered rolling his eyes when he ran into Laura at a party with her then boyfriend, being far too happy about being locked into a closet for seven minutes in heaven. 

“I am impressed,” Stiles was smiling softly. “Dude, I missed out on a bunch of quintessential middle school stuff, apparently. But I did almost lose my virginity in my friend’s parents’ wine cellar, so I feel like that makes up for other awkward high school moments. Only…” 

Stiles trailed off, and Derek knew that he’d inadvertently hit upon a more tragic memory somehow. Derek hadn’t been planning to pursue the topic, but he was now determined to let it rest and think of something to distract Stiles from those thoughts. 

“I never… kissed a man,” Derek found himself saying. 

Fuck. That was not… He was not… He was bi. Pan? Demi? Something, but that was not something that he expected to be talking to Stiles about. But it was the first thing that popped into his head, and instead of thinking a bit more to find something less embarrassing and fragile, he blurted it out. Just so Stiles would look a little less sad. 

“Once again, I need all five fingers,” Stiles was almost giggling. “Are you trying to make me lose here, Der-Bear? If this were a drinking game, I would be getting so damn wasted. I have kissed several boys. Men. In college, mostly. Have you ever wanted to kiss a man?” 

It wasn’t part of the game. He didn’t have to answer that. Derek knew that much. He just kind of wanted to. Because he wanted to see how Stiles would respond, wanted to see if Stiles would somehow  _ know _ that most recently, it had been Stiles that Derek had been thinking of when he thought about kissing someone. He couldn’t know, right? Even though Derek wanted him to. 

“Yes,” Derek said, looking up at Stiles through his lashes. 

“Okay, that’s,” Stiles got pleasingly flustered. “That’s nice. Good. Maybe you should… If you think that he would want to kiss you too, maybe you… Okay. Good. My turn?” 

Stiles’ chemosignals got a little messed up just then, and Derek felt stupidly pleased about it, felt warm and even a little happy at the way Stiles couldn’t seem to form a proper sentence. It was obvious what he wanted to say, even if he hadn’t seemed to have figured out his own role in it yet. So maybe Derek would, at some point. If he thought that Stiles might want him to. 

Maybe that would actually happen. Not now, though. Not here. 

“Yes,” Derek repeated. 

“You’re killing me,” Stiles said it openly and sincerely. “I hope you know that. I never… played on the Beacon Hills high school baseball team.” 

Once upon a time Derek had done both baseball and basketball. But he was too good at baseball, good enough to start attracting scouts, and so he had to give it up. Because there was a risk involved with being too good of an athlete. No matter how much he’d liked it. 

“How did you know?” Derek knew he had to have known. 

“Trophies,” Stiles was grinning. “Sometimes I’d get bored in school, okay, and I found myself glancing at the trophy case. Your name is in there like an absurd amount. It’s impressive.” 

He’d thought he was all that, back then. Just because he had those trophies, just because his name was everywhere at Beacon Hills High School. He had no idea. 

“I never played in a lacrosse game,” Derek returned the favor. 

“Mean,” Stiles teased and pouted prettily. “That was too easy. I’ve already got three fingers down here, and here you are with only two. You’re killing it here.” 

Soon Stiles was not going to think it as funny anymore, not if he was determined to win this - even though there was nothing to be won here. Or could Stiles be trusted to not to go too far?

“I never walked in on my parents having sex,” Stiles was enjoying this far too much. 

“Now I’ll need all five fingers,” Derek responded, using his most deadpan tone. “My parents were very much in love, and they were surprisingly subtle at times. Plus, they always managed to find the soundproofed rooms with no lock on the door. I was an inquisitive child.” 

Sure, it was a rather embarrassing anecdote, but it didn’t hurt. It was almost sweet, thinking about how much his parents had loved each other, and how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other even after all those years. There was a reason that Derek had three younger siblings, after all. The only reason his parents hadn’t had more was that Talia had thought she was too old to have a sixth one. Not because of health reasons, because her healing would have taken care of it, but because she needed to appear human, and she was already surprisingly put together for being a mom of five in her late thirties. 

“Oh my God,” Stiles was almost shrieking with laughter. “But what about your werewolf senses? You should have been able to hear them, or smell it? At least after the first time?” 

Stiles was right about that, but as a kid Derek hadn’t been too great at controlling his senses - he had a series of embarrassing anecdotes about walking in on things that he really should know to avoid. Until he turned nine and suddenly things got a lot easier for him - before puberty messed everything up again. No one had perfect control during puberty. 

“My mom used to joke that I walked in right after they made Sammy,” Derek shared, and immediately wanted to zip his lips and never say another word. 

Sam Junior, named after his Dad. They’d thought he was going to be another girl, and even though Derek was named after his Dad as well - his middle name - his parents had decided to name their final child after Samuel Hale Senior, who’d taken his wife’s last name without ever even questioning why he wouldn’t. They’d decided that it was going to be a family name from then on, a tradition that their kids could choose to honor if they ever had kids. 

If Laura ever had kids… Derek didn’t think it was in the cards for him. 

“I was supposed to have more siblings,” Stiles seemingly knew exactly what that admission had cost him. “My parents kept trying until my Mom got sick. It just never happened.” 

There was a silence then, because Derek didn’t know what he could possibly say that could make something like that better. Was there anything that could make it better? Was that even possible? Because he was pretty sure that it just really sucked. 

“Alright,” Laura interrupted, “I know some of you aren’t done yet, but if we keep going with this for much longer I think we’ll have a brawl, and we’re not doing that today. So we’re moving on to the next part of the trust exercises. And that’s the compliment game. It’s very easy, so I’m sure you’ll manage. You can trade off compliments. However, you can only trade if the person has managed to accept your compliment. If not, you can keep going.” 

His sister was out to hurt him. She was actually out to hurt him. Still. Again. 

Though apparently he was not the only one who was not looking forward to the next round. Jackson and Scott were less than amused, and Isaac looked a little pained as well - he’d never been good at accepting compliments. Not serious compliments, anyway. 

“I’ll start,” Derek decided, because he could delay the inevitable that way. 

“No insults,” Laura apparently had more things to say. “That means you, Jackson. No insults wrapped in compliments, or complisults, or whatever the kids are calling them these days.” 

That made Stiles laugh, and suddenly Derek knew exactly where to start. 

“I like your laugh,” he found himself saying, before he’d convinced himself to say something less fraught. “It’s infectious. It makes people want to laugh along with you.”

Nothing about that was a lie. Even when he was furious with Stiles, even when he was annoyed and ready to punch someone - preferably Stiles - that laugh would have stopped him in his tracks right away. Because it was stupidly charming, the way Stiles laughed with his entire body, and the way he seemed to invite everyone around to share in his enjoyment. 

“Thank you,” Stiles was looking straight at him, even though he was a little flushed. 

So not even Stiles was immune to compliments. At least he had found out that much, before everything went back to straight-up embarrassment. 

“I like your bunny teeth,” Stiles said, impish grin on his face. 

“Oh God,” Derek put a hand over his mouth. 

That was the weirdest thing to notice, and something he’d always been a little insecure about, because both Laura and uncle Peter used to joke that Derek was more suited to being a bunny than being a wolf because of them. His mother called them charming, adorable even, but that had been the very last thing that he’d wanted to hear as a boy on the cusp of puberty. And now he knew that Stiles had taken notice of them as well? It was a lot. Made him want to hide. 

“Now that does not count as accepting the compliment, big guy,” Stiles shook his head mockingly. “Guess I’ll have to compliment you some more. I like how incredibly loyal you are to the people in your inner circle. You always have Laura’s back, even though you don’t always agree with how she handles things. And you treat Peter far better than he deserves.” 

There was no way that Derek could have predicted that Stiles would go from something physical, a hidden trait that Derek had always been embarrassed about, to something so big and encompassing. Derek had always been taught that loyalty was one of the greatest qualities in a wolf, and to hear Stiles say that he believed that Derek possessed that very quality? It was nice in a way that he didn’t want to look at too closely. 

So he chose to argue instead. Because that was easier. 

“He wasn’t always like this,” Derek argues. 

“Still not accepting the compliment,” Stiles was not going to make this easy for him. 

Was Stiles purposefully ending the compliments with something that Derek had no choice but to say something about? Was he trying to find things to say that Derek just would not be able to accept? It seemed like it. But for what reason? What reason could he possibly have? 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Derek was trying to figure out what game Stiles was playing. 

“Oh no, how terrible of me,” Stiles wasn’t even going to deny it. “How dare I want to compliment you about all of the wonderful things about you. We could be here all day, Der-Bear. I’m not even kidding. I have all the compliments for you. For example: I really like your sarcastic sense of humor. It’s so subtle that most people don’t notice it, but you’ll roll your eyes or move those ridiculously expressive eyebrows and I am living for it.” 

That wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t too out of line, and it was something flattering that Derek had not suspected that Stiles had noticed, but something he’d been wanting him to notice. Besides, since Stiles had gotten most of the terribly ridiculous stuff out of the way first, it was easier to accept some of the not so outrageous stuff. Eventually. Maybe. 

“Thanks,” Derek managed to get out. 

“Damn it,” Stiles wasn’t actually upset. “Your turn.” 

Stiles had said something about Derek’s appearance after Derek had said something safe about Stiles’ appearance - or one of his traits anyway. Afterwards, Stiles had turned to personality traits, and even though Derek still wasn’t willing to accept the company about his loyalty when he’d only really been loyal to Laura over the past few years, he kind of appreciated that Stiles appreciated that about him. So maybe Stiles would accept a compliment like this as well. 

“You are incredibly smart,” Derek was not going to look at him for this. “And you’re not allowed to mention Lydia when I say this. Because you are incredible in the way you put things together and come to the right conclusion before you have even half the information. You can put puzzle pieces together even when they aren’t supposed to go together. It’s scary, but impressive.” 

It made Stiles laugh a little when Derek called it scary, as if he didn’t know that to Derek someone being able to figure him out was kind of fucking terrifying. As if he didn’t know how worried Derek had been when Stiles had put two and two together and came up with Kate, when no one else had ever gotten close to figuring out. He’d reluctantly told Laura, at some point, but no one had ever actually figured out. Not even the great Lydia, the woman Stiles looked up to as the beacon of all knowledge. No one but Stiles. 

“That means a lot, coming from mister I speak a dozen languages,” Stiles kind of accepted. 

It wasn’t actually a dozen, and they both knew it. Sure, it was something he needed both in his line of work (he was quite enjoying working as an interpreter, being able to help people make themselves understood), and something that was of great value to his pack. It was a way in which he could help Laura, help trade with packs, help connect them to others even though they’d been a small and insignificant pack of two before they got back to Beacon Hills. Derek had been mostly done with his linguistics degree (with minors in translation and history) and surprised to find that he could start putting his classes into practice. 

Though for some reason, a significant part of the pack had taken years to figure out that Derek wasn’t just the muscle. Not Stiles, though. 

“Does that count?” Derek had to ask. 

“It totally counts, dude,” Stiles objected to him even questioning it. “I like the way you look at me through your eyelashes, all bashful and sweet. I used to think you were all about the anger, but whenever you look at me like that, I remember how caring and kind and sweet you can be when you want to. It makes me appreciate that you let me see that side of you.” 

Of course Stiles had just steamrolled him there, trying to get in another compliment before Derek could stop him. Another compliment that was going to take all of his acting ability to accept - because this was way beyond anything that Stiles had ever said to him before. Sure, there had been the obligatory comments on his physique, but had mostly been mocking and not very sincere. This however? This had been extremely sincere. And slightly flirtatious. 

“That means a lot,” Derek managed to echo. 

Because it did. Because it felt like maybe he hadn’t completely driven Stiles away, no matter how hard he tried. Because it felt like Stiles saw him, and while he was definitely calling Derek out on being vulnerable, he wasn’t making too big of a deal out of it. 

“I’m not completely convinced,” Stiles seemingly went back and forth on it. “But I’ll accept it.” 

That was good enough, because time appeared to be running out, as Laura tried to make meaningful eye contact with him. Which meant that she was giving him one final chance to say something to Stiles before she made them move on. And if he didn’t say anything, she was probably going to say something herself. That would be bad. 

“You’re so much more attractive than you give yourself credit for,” Derek blurted out the words just before Laura could call the game to a halt. 

“Alright,” Laura called out and startled Stiles. “Time to move on to our last game.” 

Stiles had been leaning in, trying to get a little closer to Derek so that they could have a little more privacy. Or that was what Derek assumed the reason was for the leaning. It ended rather abruptly with Laura’s almost shout, though. Stiles almost tipped over in the opposite direction. 

“One more,” Stiles was not ready to let it go. “Derek was just about to say something good.” 

Well, not anymore he wasn’t. Because now everyone wanted to hear what he was about to say to Stiles, and Derek preferred to pretend that he’d never said it. Sure, Stiles was never going to forget about it, and was never going to stop rubbing it in his face that he’d actually admitted to finding Stiles attractive, but as long as it was just Stiles it would be fine. He could probably trust Stiles enough to trust that he was not going to share that information with the rest of the group - at least not until he’d gotten Derek’s permission to share that. Probably. 

“Not in front of all of us, he wasn’t,” Scotty was making a disgusted face. 

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Erica sighed. “Because of fragile masculinity.” 

Derek tried really hard not to laugh, and he was pretty sure that Erica noticed, because she brightened visibly and started to think of some more things that she could say to make him laugh out loud.

However, she did not get the time to do so. 

“Next, we’ll be doing trust falls,” Laura said. 

And that was a step too far for Derek. Sure, he understood getting out of his comfort zone, but this was miles and miles beyond that. It had nothing to do with Stiles, nothing to do with him being human and Derek being worried about a lack of strength. It had everything to do with him being completely fucking terrified to trusting anyone, especially with the rest of the pack pointedly not watching him freak out internally. To the point where they might as well have just watched, because it made him just as nervous. 

“Oh crap,” Stiles tried to stand up and then flailed. 

It was weirdly purposeful, more so than usual, so Derek almost wasn’t surprised when Stiles tripped and fell. He’d managed to break his fall well, but he still smelled slightly hurt. 

“I think I hurt myself,” Stiles continued, making sad eyes at Laura. “I think Derek and I should sit this one out before I injure both him and myself. We’ll get firewood or something.” 

Without another word, he reached for Derek’s arm and started dragging him off. It was only when Derek let him that Laura was even remotely appeased. Still, Derek was pretty sure that he’d be hearing from her later. 

“Not fair,” Jackson complained. “They’re just going off to bone.” 

No, that was not a thing that was happening. And if anyone tried to make fun of him, or tried to press the issue, Derek was going to lash out. Shit, maybe he had to walk faster so they’d be out of hearing distance if someone did say something. 

“Shut up Jackson,” half the pack chorused simultaneously. 

Oh. Right. That was part of being a pack too. 

* * *

DAY 5, 10:12 AM:

They had been kicked out of the campsite with only the clothes on their back and a backpack with enough food to last them until dinner. Because no one wanted the awkward singles around while the couples had time to themselves - read: more sex, and Laura certainly did not want her brother around while she told Jordan that they were expecting a baby. 

(“Because you don’t need to hear our celebration,” she’d said.)

Derek had figured out the change in her scent just last night, and had immediately confronted her. It had been a weird conversation, unexpectedly emotional. It had been a long time since the last werewolf child had been born. They’d had two younger brothers once, before the fire, one of them younger even than Cora. Laura had been the oldest of five once, and Derek the second child and oldest son. They’d helped raise their siblings, helped teach them control of the shift and how to get their way with their Dad who had always been the softy in the family. 

And now Laura was expecting a cub of her own. Part Hellhound, part wolf. Derek was both terrified and excited. Terrified of how much he loved that child already, and excited that there would be another Hale Alpha after Laura. If the child turned out to be a wolf, of course. 

He really wasn’t sure how that worked with a Hellhound in the mix. 

“I’m bored,” Stiles complained, dropping down onto a random rock. “Didn’t they leave us your books? I could read. It’s not like you’re going to talk to me.”

Stiles was probably right about that, because after all of the feelings that had been stirred up in the trust exercises, Derek was all done with talking. At least for a while. He’d already said far too much, revealed far too much, was far too out of control. 

“Hmm,” Derek responded - the best he could do. 

“Exactly,” Stiles was trying to get comfortable on the rock, and it was not working. “So I’m bored, and if you’re not going to talk to me, you’ll need to find another way to entertain me. You know how annoying I get when there’s nothing to do. I get impatient. Also, I think I forgot to take my Adderall with me because I couldn’t find it this morning and now I am a little antsy. Okay, more than a little. Like, a lot. Like bugs under my skin antsy.” 

He was wiggling even more than he did in bed when he just couldn’t get to sleep - and yes that was something that Derek knew intimately by now. There was so much new knowledge in his head about Stiles, and he was not going to be able to just delete it after this week. Which was probably at least part of what Laura had intended would happen. 

Though she probably hadn’t thought too much of how it would affect Derek. 

“You did forget it,” Derek somehow decided it was safe to comment. “You don’t smell like drugs.” 

The scent of chemicals had almost completely faded by now, and Derek was annoyed to find out that Stiles smelled even better without it. It was already annoying enough to be dealing with admitting his attraction to Stiles, but the scent was making it even more difficult to stay away from Stiles. And he was still pretty sure that staying away was the best option. 

Not because Stiles wasn’t interested - Derek was starting to believe that he was - but because Derek was not sure if pursuing this was a good thing. Because he was scared and unsure and still not ready for any trust falls, even if they were merely metaphorical. 

“Wolf noses are just weird, dude,” Stiles sighed. 

Derek shrugged, because that was just a fact of life at this point, and Stiles laughed, because somehow that hadn’t gotten lost in translation. Somehow Stiles had understood exactly what he meant without Derek having to use actual words, like Derek was a language that Stiles was figuring out how to understand. He was learning far too quickly, had improved so much over the course of the past few days. If he kept going like this, he’d be fluent in no time. 

“Is there nothing that we could be doing?” Stiles was not going to follow Derek’s example and be quiet. “Sure, we’re in the middle of the woods and we don’t have anything with us except food, but there must be some way that we can entertain ourselves.” 

He pointedly wagged his eyebrows at Derek, because clearly he’d been far too subtle for Derek to understand what he was hinting at (Stiles had  _ not _ been subtle). He wanted Derek to entertain him with flirtation, something Stiles perceived as harmless fun but something that felt like walking blindfolded into a minefield to Derek. 

“There’s a lake nearby,” Derek offered instead. 

“Thank  _ fuck _ ,” Stiles was pretty good at pretending he wasn’t disappointed that Derek hadn’t taken the bait. “I think I’m melting, and since the shower facilities at our glamorous campsite probably aren’t up to code, I could use a bath. It’s a miracle you haven’t turned up your nose at me yet. Or are you too distracted by the pungent stink of some of the others? Like… Jackson, yeah, he probably smells extra gross, that creepy lizard.” 

Was this the point where Derek was supposed to go along with Stiles’ mocking of Jackson? Or was he supposed to flirt with Stiles, telling him that he didn’t smell bad at all? Because he didn’t - smell bad, that is. Derek had never hated Stiles’ scent, even when it was sharp and demanding to be noticed, or when it was dulled by medication and sweetened by far too much sugar. Stiles really did have a processed foods problem. Sometimes it was bad enough to make Derek want to sneeze - but he’d been taught that was not polite. 

Not that Stiles was even going to know, though. 

“It’s just a few minutes away,” Derek decided heading towards the lake was easiest. 

“Few minutes at werewolf speed?” Stiles had to ask. “Because while I’m magically awesome, that doesn’t exactly make me move any faster. I’m just a poor old human. You might move faster carrying me than you would waiting for me the whole time.” 

Another tactic, one that Derek wasn’t going to fall for. Even though he kind of wanted to. The mere idea of just picking Stiles up - it would be far easier than Stiles even knew - and carrying him for a few minutes until he could just drop him into the lake. It held a lot of appeal, and Derek could already imagine what Stiles’ face was going to look like after Derek had dared to play a prank on him. Disbelief and joy mixed with exaggerated betrayal, mouth open and gaping and maybe coughing after swallowing some water. 

Maybe he should have just done it. But no. No, that was going to be too much. 

“Are you saying you can’t even walk for a few minutes?” Derek raised a single eyebrow. 

“Damn you, Sourwolf,” Stiles dug out an annoying nickname just to mess with him. 

It wasn’t a name Stiles used all that often these days. Sure, he thought of all kinds of annoying nicknames to see if he could use them to get to Derek in some way, but the Sourwolf one had never gotten much use. Unless Stiles was trying to act more immature than he was - which explained why Derek remembered him using it when Derek had pierced the air mattress with his claws. That was the perfect time for some dramatics, and Stiles knew it. 

This moment was not that time though, so Stiles quickly dropped the nickname and started walking, making good time. Because Stiles had never been a weak and fragile human, he’d always been stubborn and persistent. And so very determined that he was going to show the wolves that he could handle anything they could throw at him - even when he couldn’t. 

Though this? A few minutes walk? It was easy, even for Stiles. 

“Wow,” Stiles gaped when they finally got to the lake. “This is gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lake this clear in my life. You could probably actually see the bottom even at its deepest part. It’s incredible. Derek, we have to go swimming. Get naked.” 

He supposed that it was a rather beautiful area. The lake had been hidden from the path, and their journey had ended in them pushing through foliage to find themselves on the lakeside, all alone and surrounded by nothing but nature. 

Not even Derek could sense an animal or human around. But skinny dipping? No. 

“No,” Derek was in no way ready to deal with the mental image that brought on. 

“Oh come on,” Stiles was pouting, trying to convince him. “We don’t have any other clothes, and I am not going to drag my waterlogged self back to camp later. If I keep wearing my shoes I will lose them on the bottom somewhere, and drying my clothes would be a pain. Though they’d probably benefit from a quick rinse. Still, skinny dipping. I’ve never gone skinny dipping before, Der-Bear. In the spirit of our little game from yesterday…” 

As usual, Stiles was stupidly convincing, even to someone as determined as Derek. He was tempted to throw caution to the wind just this once, to explore the clear waters again, to swim without his soaked clothes weighing him down. Or even to splash water at Stiles, to race him, or to… No, Derek was not going to let himself go down that track. 

“Stiles,” Derek was trying so hard not to be tempted. 

“I won’t even peek,” Stiles raised a hand in the Boy Scout salute. “Scout’s honor. See, total Boy Scout. I still remember. I’ll turn my back to you until you’re in the water.” 

Sometimes Stiles was even more uncannily perceptive than usual. He’d already figured out that Derek wasn’t saying no because he didn’t want to, had figured out that Derek was just hesitant and unsure - and that he never liked those feelings. So instead of giving Derek room to lash out, he distracted him with jokes about Boy Scout salutes and terrible lies about not looking at Derek’s body until he was in the water. Derek knew better than that. 

But the distraction still worked, damn him. 

“You do know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Derek was not impressed. 

“I know,” Stiles sighed, reluctant to let this go. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” 

Stiles had lied on purpose, Derek was pretty damn convinced of that much. He had lied to flirt with Derek, even, because it was starting to become more and more clear to Derek that Stiles was pulling metaphorical pigtails not to make Derek angry. Stiles was doing it to get Derek’s attention, to get himself noticed, and to show his appreciation of Derek’s physique. And normally the latter would have bothered him, except he already knew that Stiles appreciated him for far more than just that. The compliment game had reinforced that belief that much. 

“What makes you think I want to see that?” Derek asked, trying to play it cool. 

Even though he did. Even when he could have sworn that he almost hated Stiles and didn’t want to be near him, he still would have wanted to see that. And Stiles had already figured that out, even though he didn’t have the supernatural senses to support that thesis. 

“Well,” Stiles was clearly drawing this out as much as he possibly could, already kicking off his shoes and socks. “There was this guy yesterday, and he told me that I was so much more attractive than I thought I was. And well, it made me think that he might be interested in seeing all of this” - here he motioned to his own body - “without its traditional coverings.” 

It was scary, hearing his own words be thrown in his face like that. Because he’d been far too vulnerable in that game, given far too much of his feelings away in the hopes that it was going to make Stiles feel half as unbalanced as Derek had been feeling. Because he’d wanted Stiles to figure it out, that Derek wanted him and had wanted him for a while now. He’d wanted Stiles to know that Derek was finally letting himself want Stiles. That he was almost ready. 

“You’ll burn,” Derek was just throwing every excuse in the book at him. 

Just to see what Stiles was going to do, and try, and say. Which was take off his flannel shirt. 

“Not if I wear sunscreen,” Stiles then pulled a bottle from a side pocket of their bag. 

Derek had completely missed Stiles packing that, even though he was really glad Stiles had gone to the effort. Because while Derek was pretty much immune to sun burns and sun stroke, Stiles was still at risk. And since he had fair skin, he probably burned rather easily. Though Derek was pretty sure that Stiles was also going to freckle. And that was something he really could not deal with right now. That was going to be the last straw. The final nail in the coffin. 

“Want to help me do my back?” Stiles pulled off his shirt, turning his back to Derek. 

Jesus  _ fuck _ . Stiles was certainly not playing fair right now. 

All that pale skin on display, freckles and moles forming patterns that Derek was trying very hard to figure out. Muscles moving underneath that fair skin, more and stronger muscles than Derek had been expecting. Stiles was everything he’d dreamt of and more, and he was just standing there in front of Derek, bold and unashamed. 

He was probably going to take his pants off next. After he’d finished lathering his chest with the sun screen, stretching and preening and showing off everything he could offer. Tilting his head a little so that his neck was on full display - a perfect temptation to a wolf. 

“Stiles,” was all that Derek could say. 

“Seduction not working?” Stiles just owned up to it like it was nothing. 

The seduction  _ not _ working was the opposite of Derek’s problem. It was absolutely working, far too well for Derek not to be a little wary. Stiles was proud and so open to any advances that Derek was willing to put out there. He wasn’t going to hide his feelings (like Derek had), or hold himself back from the opportunity (like Derek had), or even confuse his own feelings with something negative (like Derek had). It seemed almost easy to Stiles. 

And he started toying with the button on his jeans, and Derek just had to own up to the truth. 

“It  _ is _ working,” Derek tried to figure out how to not let this get out of hand. 

“So that’s the problem,” Stiles nodded. “Well, you take your time. I’ll be here, all wet and naked and tempting. Whenever you’re ready. You can look away, but I give you permission to ogle all you’d like. As long as you do my back first. Laura will be so pissed if you let me burn.” 

That had certainly become a very familiar tactic over the past few days, one that Stiles usually employed when Derek wanted to do something but wasn’t sure he should. Stiles gently bullied him into getting his way, about absolutely everything. 

Derek was distracted enough to almost miss grabbing the sun screen before it hit him. 

“Are you going to keep threatening me with Laura’s wrath all week?” Derek had to ask. 

“Of course,” Stiles shot an impish grin at him over his shoulder. “It always works.” 

He’d turned his back to Derek, that unmarred expanse of fair skin still on full display. And he’d given Derek permission to look all he liked, and permission to get his hands all over the smooth skin with the ridiculous excuse of the sun screen. Not that Stiles didn’t need it, because unlike Derek, he didn’t tan all that easily. He’d need the protection. 

Still, Stiles could have easily done it himself. Or, relatively easily. 

But he’d rather that Derek did it, and that too was a heady feeling. Just not heady enough for Derek to make it easy for him. Not enough for Derek not to mess with him a little. 

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Stiles complained when the sun screen hit his heated skin. “Derek!” 

Well, that was unexpected. Stiles used his actual name and Derek had to fight not to respond in some kind of way. His control of the wolf was not at risk, as he was both man and wolf, but his control over his feelings was a little harder to maintain than it had been before. Because Stiles was temptation personified, even when he whined and complained and… moaned. 

“Poor Stiles,” Derek mocked, finally reaching for Stiles. 

Stiles’ skin was soft, so smooth, and Derek immediately found himself using both of his large hands to spread the sun screen all over Stiles’ back. From his neck and his shoulders down, down over his back all the way to the top of his boxers, rising up above his jeans. 

Spreading it was all fine and good, but then Derek had to start working it into the skin, rubbing circles and meaningless patterns all over, getting lost in the feeling of finally having a legitimate excuse to touch Stiles. Getting lost in Stiles pressing into the touch, wordlessly begging for more of this, of whatever Derek wanted to give him. 

Derek’s hands moved down again, teasing at the edge of the boxers. 

“Alright,” Derek had to break the spell before he actively undressed Stiles. “You’re good.” 

His fingers had been less than an inch away from moving underneath the fabric and getting the lotion onto the more sensitive parts of Stiles, the parts that didn’t usually see the sun. Still, those parts were most likely staying underwater the whole time, and they still had some boundaries. 

Right? 

“You’re better,” Stiles said it so easily. “Thanks, Der.” 

It was tempting to ask for Stiles to get his back in return, but that would have been a straight up indulgence. He didn’t need it. It would have just been an excuse to get Stiles’ hands on him in return, those long deft fingers moving down his spine and teasing just slightly under Derek’s jeans, only to find out that Derek rarely bothered with underwear. 

That was a surprise that would have pleased Stiles greatly. 

“Give me a minute,” Derek pleaded, distracted. “You can go in. Test the water.” 

Stiles listened - for once - pushing down his jeans and just kicking them off before adding them to his messy pile of clothes. Derek had to take a step back then, keeping out of touching distance as Stiles unselfconsciously pushed down his boxers and ran naked into the lake, never even checking to see that Derek was blatantly checking out his ass. 

Because he was, his mouth dry enough to make him cough a little. Luckily the coughing happened when Stiles dove underwater. Derek hadn’t been that obvious yet. 

“The water’s lovely,” Stiles shouted when he emerged. 

The lake wasn’t too deep where Stiles was standing. The water was barely above his waist - Derek was pretty sure that Stiles had chosen that position carefully, displaying himself in a most advantageous position. A siren trying to tempt Derek into joining him. 

Derek kicked off his shoes and socks, and then just… didn’t stop. Stopping would mean thinking about it too much, and if he did that he was going to stay on the shore for hours until Stiles got bored with swimming all by himself. And while Stiles could get bored easily, he was also stubborn enough to stay in the water until he persuaded Derek to join him. 

Within seconds Derek was naked, facing Stiles, who was unashamedly staring at him. 

“Maybe you should have done your face as well,” Derek shouted. “It’s turning red.” 

Stiles’ face promptly turned even more red, which meant that Derek had won for once. So he felt comfortable enough to slowly move towards the water, to move towards Stiles as gracefully as he could. A predator hunting for its prey - prey about to get caught. 

“You’re killing me,” Stiles muttered under his breath. 

Good. Maybe now Stiles finally understood what Derek had been feeling all along. 

His feet hit the water and Derek sighed at the refreshing feeling and then just kept going. Until his ankles were covered, his calves, his thighs, his groin - barely. Until he was facing Stiles, once again within touching distance. Waiting for the right moment. 

“Derek,” Stiles crooked a finger at him. 

“What is it, Stiles?” Derek was going to hold out a little while longer. 

Did he actually know what he was doing? The kind of picture he was painting? His skin glistening with water, hair plastered to his face and licking his pink lips to wet them some more - or just to get to Derek some more. His eyes shining with mischief, and a single finger on one of his ridiculous hands motioning for Derek to come closer already. 

“Aren’t you going to come here?” Stiles was starting to pout a little. 

“Say the magic word,” Derek was just trying to keep it together. 

Which was impossible, because he really did  _ not _ have his shit together at this point. He was holding on with the tips of his claws, on a wing and a prayer. And they both knew it. 

“Please,” Stiles stretched the word out into a positively indecent moan. 

Derek found himself moving closer to Stiles without ever even consciously giving his body permission to do so. He just had to get closer somehow, because Stiles was begging him, and he’d momentarily lost all ability to say no to Stiles, even though he’d been so very good at it before. Or, he thought he’d been good at it before, but that had been self-denial. 

The second Stiles figured out that he had Derek wrapped around that damn finger of his, they were going to be in so much fucking trouble. 

“Fuck,  _ Stiles _ ,” Derek groaned in return. 

Still, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not yet. He couldn’t bridge those final inches. 

There was still something that he was waiting for. There was something that he needed to hear before he could let them get to that point. Yes, it had been quite a long time in the making, but Derek was determined that they were going to do this right. That this was not going to be a moment in the woods that they were going to forget about as soon as they went back to civilization. He was pretty sure that Stiles didn’t want to forget about it when they got back home, but Derek needed to hear that out loud. He needed the words. 

“Not the magic word?” Stiles pretended to be bashful again. “Yes? Is that the magic word? Do I just have to say yes to you? To everything? Because yes. Hell yes. The most enthusiastic of yeses. I’m all yours, for as long as you want me to be. Here and at home. Anywhere. I promise. Now come and get me already, you ridiculous man.” 

Because this was Stiles, who was never going to use five words when he could use fifteen, or even fifty, he got a full speech instead of a genuine declaration. Not that the speech wasn’t completely genuine, because it really was. It was a full speech because it was genuine, because that was just how Stiles talked, because that was just the way he chose to express himself. Somehow it was now charming instead of torturous. 

“If you insist,” Derek could barely pretend that was any kind of hardship. 

It wasn’t. He stepped forward and tackled a naked Stiles into the lake. 

* * *

DAY 6, 11:39 PM: 

They hadn’t kissed yet. Was that weird? 

Even when they’d spent a couple of hours just being naked in each other’s company, wrestling in the water, chasing each other, or just lazily floating and swimming. But every time they’d gotten close to actually kissing, Derek had found himself… not going for it. 

And Stiles could tell. Of course he could tell. 

He hadn’t said anything though, and that was the most concerning part of it all, because Stiles always had something to say about absolutely everything. But this? Not so much. This he was willing to let go, this he was actively staying quiet about. Did he just not have anything to say about that? Had he changed his mind and did he just not want to admit it?

Had Derek already fucked it up? That had to have been a new record. Even for him. 

It left him unable to sleep, trying not to fidget too much as Stiles’ body was pressed so very close to his (probably even closer than it had been last night or the nights before), and Stiles’ heartbeat was slow and almost steady, as if he was about to drop off to sleep. It would have been reasonable payback for him to keep Stiles awake for once, but Derek was not about to ruin anything else for Stiles. He’d done more than enough already. 

Derek tried not to move when Stiles sleepily pressed even closer, but he felt tense. 

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles sounded more awake than Derek had expected. “Are you having trouble counting sheep? Do werewolves count sheep? It seems like werewolves should count something a little less harmless, something they’re less likely to eat. Because you can’t tell me that you’ve never met a werewolf who’s eaten a sheep.” 

So Stiles was definitely and undeniably awake, and completely his normal self. Even if he had occasionally babbled a little in his sleep, that had not been quite as coherent as this. Yes, this was totally coherent, considering that this was Stiles. 

“We haven’t kissed,” Derek just said it, whisper-soft and right against Stiles’ ear. 

And they should have, Derek knew they should have. That was what always happened in all the stories, and they’d certainly alluded to that and a whole lot more. Sure, there hadn’t been any obvious attempts, but there had been several moments yesterday when they’d both been caught staring at the other person and they’d moved a little closer and then…

Nothing. Because of Derek. Because he was ruining it before they could ruin it. 

“I know,” Stiles was trying for a reference here, Derek was sure of it. 

“Okay Han Solo,” Derek was a little disappointed that Stiles couldn’t see him rolling his eyes at that. “But… It doesn’t bother you? We were naked, and we had a bunch of opportunities.” 

This was Stiles, open and obvious Stiles, who never met an innuendo he didn’t like, who was shamelessly sexual when he wanted to be, sitting down with his legs spread and his spindly hand gently rubbing at his own skin (sometimes in very indecent places). Of course Stiles would want to kiss him, he’d basically told Derek to, without ever having to say the words. 

“Yes we were,” Stiles was reminiscing, vividly. 

Derek could smell the reminiscing, and he could definitely smell Stiles’ appreciation of Derek’s naked form and the many opportunities they’d had. It didn’t set his teeth on edge, even though just a few days ago it absolutely would have had that effect on him. 

“You don’t mind?” Derek was embarrassed at how fragile he sounded. 

“I figured you’d let me know when you were ready,” Stiles shrugged. “Look, I’ve been aware of how into you I am for fucking ages. Everyone is aware of how fucking into you I am. It’s probably why Laura made us share a tent, because she was hoping that either my feelings would rub off on you - oh, rub off, I’m a genius - or that your vehement hatred of me would turn out to be a cover for your true, more sexy, feelings towards me.” 

Stiles was so brazen about his feelings, so quick to admit to something not unlike pining. He didn’t even give off any scent of embarrassment about it either. He owned every bit of those feelings, and was perfectly happy to joke about them and at how other people had figured it out as well. He didn’t even seem upset at Laura for forcing them together, even though it must have sucked for Stiles to hear Derek complain all the time about how much he didn’t want to be around Stiles. If Derek hadn’t come around, it really would have sucked for him.

And Laura had still done it. On purpose. 

“Option two,” Derek was fine admitting that because Stiles couldn’t see him blush. 

“Sweet, Laura owes me twenty bucks,” Stiles actually fistpumped, almost hitting Derek in the face in his enthusiasm. “Not the point, and I’ll totally either split the money with you or spend it on our first proper date. Whatever you want. The point is that it’s not new for me like it is for you. I’m not new to this rodeo, so you’re setting the pace. If and when it happens, I’ll be thrilled.” 

Of course there had been a bet. Derek was really hoping that it had just been between Laura and Stiles, because he did not want to contemplate the rest of the pack being in on this. He didn’t want to think of what Erica or Kira or Isaac, or God forbid, Jackson had bet money on. 

Still, Stiles’ speech was heartfelt and sincere. Because he knew Derek, even though Derek had been nothing but an asshole to him for the better part of the past six years. There had only been occasional moments of softness, and most of those moments had happened over the course of the past few days. Anything else had been involuntary glimpses of a softness that Derek hadn’t allowed himself to show to anyone - not openly, anyway. 

He should have known that Stiles would have been able to see right through any front he put up, should have known that Stiles could see the soft underbelly that had been the reason that Derek had to build walls around himself. Of course Stiles had seen through the armor. 

And he was willing to wait, happy to wait, until Derek let the walls down himself. 

“Surprisingly mature of me, right?” Stiles just had to break the meaningful silence. 

“I am agog, I am aghast,” Derek knew that called for a deadpan. 

It made Stiles giggle, a little bit at least. He felt the slight shaking of his laughter, Stiles’ back still pressed tightly to his chest. For some reason, he actually enjoyed it when Derek was a bit of an asshole to him, just enough to get on Stiles’ level. 

“I like you so much,” Stiles was positively giddy, so giddy he reeked of it. 

Derek liked him as well. He liked that Stiles was silly at times, that he allowed Derek to be silly and young and a little immature with him. He liked that Stiles was determined not to let Derek hide away, but also knew when to give him his space. He liked Stiles’ warm body pressed against his, liked the bony elbows which were somehow always in a position that made things extremely uncomfortable for Derek. He liked Stiles so much. 

So why not kiss him? Or let himself be kissed? Why not take a leap for once? 

“Turn around,” Derek ordered, even though his voice trembled. 

“Oh my, mister Grey,” Stiles was a damn idiot, and Derek still liked him. 

Maybe being out of control wouldn’t be as scary if Stiles was right there with him. Maybe he could let himself fall a little bit. Not because he knew he healed quickly, not because he knew that Stiles would catch him (even though he did know that, even though they’d skipped the stupid trust exercises Laura had tried to foist upon them). He knew he could do it because it felt like it was worth the risk. Because he hadn’t just rushed into this, because he trusted Stiles to make sure that even if the landing sucked, they’d be there together. 

“Here I am,” Stiles had wiggled his face to a new position, facing Derek. 

It wasn’t fair that Derek could see or sense exactly what Stiles was doing, and Stiles couldn’t tell what Derek was doing in return. Which meant that Derek was going to have to use his words to make his intentions clear. To level the playing field, at least a little. 

“Can I kiss you?” Derek asked, knew he had to ask. 

“Yes,” Stiles breathed, smelling giddy again. “Of course. Hell yes. Enthusiastic yes. Again.” 

His first kiss with a man. His first kiss with Stiles. His first kiss in years and years. A massive leap, a leap of faith. A leap into faith, as it was best translated - and really, was that what his mind wanted to do to distract him from being so very, very nervous? 

Derek shook off the cobwebs in his head and leaned in. And leaned in some more, until finally he could press a soft kiss to Stiles’ soft lips. He shuddered into it, because it was everything he’d imagined, and everything he’d waited for. Stiles’ stupidly perfect hands were resting on his shoulders, and they were trembling slightly. Stiles was nervous too. 

It was barely a kiss, and it was earth-shattering still. 

So Derek did it again, but more firmly this time, opening his mouth a little to see what that was like, relishing in the soft scrape of Stiles’ facial hair. That was new and precious and made pleasure zing down his spine and gather in his gut. 

“Derek,” Stiles hummed against his lips. “It’s so unfair.” 

He was breathing a little heavy, and Derek too felt like it took more effort than he’d expected to keep his breathing level. It was embarrassing to be so easily discombobulated, but it was fine because Stiles was too, panting slightly and sticking out his lower lip as if he was trying to tempt Derek into kissing him again. Didn’t he know that Stiles himself was temptation enough? 

“What?” Derek had no idea what he was talking about. 

“You’re so good at this,” Stiles stuck out that lower lip some more in a pout. “It’s not fair.” 

Derek was pretty sure he was blushing now, ears feeling hot as he ducked his head into the curve of Stiles’ neck, hiding from whatever embarrassing comment was to follow. This was Stiles after all, he couldn’t just leave it at that. God forbid he’d miss an opportunity for a joke or a punchline of some kind. Stiles just couldn’t let that stand. 

“That’s what makes it fair,” Derek muttered from his safe harbor. 

Stiles smelled so good, even more so now that he was relaxed and happy and ever so slightly aroused - but mostly overwhelmingly pleased. Stiles reeked of warmth and happiness, and it made Derek want to burrow into that safe place in the curve of his neck, smelling nothing but this forever. Because Stiles should always smell like this, only ever this. Except maybe Stiles could smell of Derek more, have traces of Derek all over him at all times. 

That thought was so appealing that Derek let out a shuddered breath against Stiles’ soft skin, and when he felt the resulting shiver go through Stiles, he had to press a kiss to that skin too. And then maybe press his tongue right there, laving the skin. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Stiles tried not to get too loud, but his voice cracked on the second word. 

His hands clung to Derek then, moving away from his shoulders and instead letting one of them settle on Derek’s lower back and letting the other tentatively settle on the back of Derek’s neck, nails scratching at the soft hairs at his nape. Stiles pulled his hips back a little, but it was no use, because Derek  _ knew _ what that had done to him. He could almost taste it on his tongue. 

“Derek,” Stiles moaned when Derek did it again. 

How could he not do it again when Stiles liked it so very much? When it made Stiles get so delightfully vocal in his appreciation? He was making Stiles feel so very good, and that was enough of a rush that Derek almost forgot all of his earlier trepidation. 

So he wriggled until Stiles’ hand settled on his ass, earning him a choked gasp that Derek was never going to forget. He  _ wanted _ . He hadn’t felt like this before. Not ever. 

“Stiles,” Derek pulled back just to say his name. “Stiles.” 

Stiles pulled him in for another kiss then, this time slowly getting Derek used to that teasing tongue in a whole new context. Derek shuddered and moaned and  _ writhed _ against Stiles. He was so far from in control, and it was terrifying but also so, so good. 

He never wanted to stop. Not ever. 

“Can you not?” Jackson was apparently still awake. “Don’t you know that people can hear you?” 

Well that certainly put a damper on things. Not people being able to hear them, because Derek was happy to ignore any sounds if the rest of the pack was willing to do the same - that was just part of being a wolf who always knew what people were up to. No, it was the fact that Jackson just had to open his stupid mouth and comment on it that was the problem. 

The hypocrisy of it, when all week now Derek had been desperate for something, anything that would keep him from hearing some of the details of what his pack got up to at night. And for once, Derek was the one being treasured, and now they wanted him to give that up? He wasn’t ever going to give Stiles up. When they got back, he was going to lock them in his bedroom for days, just until he was completely satisfied with how Stiles smelled again. Of  _ them _ . 

“Didn’t stop you and Lydia earlier this week,” Stiles was immediately ready for battle. “All week. All of you. None of you are subtle. Human ears aren’t actually that bad, guys.” 

Sometimes the fact that Stiles was always down to fight was a problem. Right now, Derek was stupidly charmed by it, probably because Stiles hadn’t moved his hands at all, and he was still holding Derek so close to him with all his not inconsiderable strength. And because he was ready to throw down over their right to fool around in their tent. He liked that. 

“Sorry not sorry,” Erica had to join the conversation, of course. “I love my man and he’s so good to me. I’m not biting a pillow just because all of you are around. Boyd likes me loud.” 

Erica’s tendency to overshare, however? Derek wasn’t a big fan of that. Sure, he was starting to like Erica as a person, and he’d always been at least a little fond of Boyd, but Derek didn’t quite feel as ease with how blatant Erica was about details. Everyone had heard it already when it happened, so why remind them of it all the time? 

Or, was that how Erica showed her happiness? Was that how she showed that she was pleased to be desired by her partner? Maybe that made more sense than Derek was willing to admit. 

“Can we not do this right now?” Laura was hopefully going to try to stop the ensuing fight before it properly got started. “I’m an old pregnant lady now, I need my rest. Derek, I’m happy for you, but can you please keep it in your pants until you can find a sound-proofed room?” 

The entire pack had taken the announcement of the pregnancy as a reason to go even more buckwild with their celebrations than they usually did. They’d shouted and hollered and jumped up and down - even Jackson had been pleased that there would be another addition to their pack. He’d been surprisingly quiet and softly pleased about it, but Derek was not going to get involved in all of Jackson’s family issues, even though he still strongly suspected that Jackson had been a Hale before he’d been a Whittemore. 

“That’s just hypocrisy,” Stiles was actually getting offended. “You’ve been pushing for us to get together for ages now. Half the reason you planned this week the way you did was to force us into close quarters all the time. Well, it worked. It was mostly my natural charm, but I admit your tactics did help a little. Now deal with the results. You’re just mad you owe me twenty bucks.” 

Stiles was actually even cuter when he was getting indignant on their behalf. For once, Derek didn’t feel like he was an outsider in his own pack. He felt like he had a partner who had his back, who was willing to trick the Alpha just to help them, or even go against her if that was what he’d deemed best. And for Derek, who’d always greatly valued loyalty, it was incredibly appealing that someone would choose to be this loyal to  _ him _ . Not to the entire pack, not because he was the right hand of the Alpha, but because he was Derek. 

As a reward, Derek pressed another kiss to the curve of Stiles’ neck, wondering if he would be allowed to leave a hickey on Stiles’ fair skin, to mix their scents even more and to show everyone who was willing to look that there was someone who wanted Stiles enough to leave a mark, to claim him in this way. That Derek wanted Stiles that much. 

That Derek was Stiles’, even though it was Stiles who carried the hypothetical mark. 

“So Derek always wanted to bang you?” Laura suddenly sounded interested again. “The whole time? He was just confusing lust with annoyance? Yep, of course he did. Little brother, you could have had the decency to just fall in love with the idiot instead.” 

Excellent, of course Laura was more interested in making fun of him than in arguing with Stiles some more from all the way across the campsite. 

“I just wanted Stiles to win twenty bucks from you,” Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Sisters before misters, Der-Bear,” Laura wanted to get the last word again. 

And yeah, so maybe she was going to get the last word this time. Because Derek was more interested in kissing Stiles again than in keeping this argument going. Knowing that it would piss Laura off was just a fringe benefit. 

* * *

DAY 7, 3:21 PM: 

The campsite was almost empty, all of the tents cleaned up except for one - Scott was still struggling to take his down. Kira was standing beside the tent, giggling and filming the carnage for the people who’d already left to take the gear back to their cars. 

She had a point. This was something that everyone needed to see. 

“I’ve almost got it,” Scott claimed for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. 

“I won’t get in your way,” Kira said in return, holding the camera a bit closer to her boyfriend. 

Derek just stood there, staring at the ridiculous display. All of his stuff had long since been packed up, no matter how much Stiles had tried to distract him. He’d managed to fit everything into his bags with very little effort, while Stiles just shoved everything haphazardly into his own bags, tossing the ruined air mattress at Derek because he thought that was a souvenir that was worth keeping around. It was stupidly sentimental, and Derek was tempted for half a second. 

He still threw it out, of course, because it was a useless item, no matter the sentimentality.

“Every single time,” Stiles looped an arm around Derek’s waist. “Seriously, he is never going to learn. It’s a good thing that Kira’s amazing, because otherwise he’d have to live in the ruins of this thing forever. I’m certainly not getting in there to save him from himself.” 

Stiles smelled pleased again, with a hint of mischief this time. Derek did not want to ask what kind of things he’d gotten up to in the thirty or so minutes that Stiles had spent near the cars, trying to fit his bags into the back of his Jeep. Laura had taken the Camaro, even though it was technically now Derek’s car, seeing as it really wasn’t appropriate for children - not even werewolf children. The Camaro just wasn’t fit for a car seat. 

Still, Laura wanted her last ride, and Derek was more than happy to sit in the passenger’s seat of Stiles’ Jeep, linking hands over the stick shift from time to time. Even though they had to drive back with Scott and Kira - and that meant they had to wait another hour or so. 

It did not look like Scott had been making any progress at all. 

“Is it stupid that I don’t want to leave?” Derek asked, only for Stiles to hear. 

“I never wanted to get out of our tent,” Stiles freely admitted. “You were the one insisting that we had to get up and pack our stuff so we could go home. Not that I won’t be happy to get back to civilization and hot water and an actual bed. Because I’m looking forward to sharing an actual bed with you. One that’s a bit bigger than your tiny cramped bedroll.” 

When Derek started picturing his own room, and his own bed, and both of those things smelling of Stiles and of the both of them - that made him seriously consider Stiles’ point. Because it would be nice for the both of them to be able to move a bit more without risking a roll onto the hard ground and potential injuries for Stiles. Derek’s bed was a lot bigger, which allowed a lot more possibilities not just for sleeping, but also for  _ sleeping _ .

Sex. He meant sex. Or just foreplay. For now. 

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Derek pointedly said. “Or this morning.” 

Both times, Stiles had almost tipped off the bedroll many a time, and Derek had to pull him closer every single time. And Stiles certainly had not been complaining about any of that. In fact, he’d pushed closer every single time, as if he was disinclined to allow even an inch of space between the two of them. It was desperately clingy and incredibly pleasing. 

“I’m never going to complain about sleeping with you,” Stiles was so damn genuine about it too, genuine enough to make Derek’s heart give a little flutter at the words. “If I had my way, we’d be sleeping together every night from now on. But I wouldn’t be opposed to doing that in an actual bed. A bed in a soundproofed room where we won’t have to listen to Laura and Jordan re-enacting the night they conceived the cub. That and you know, lumbar support. And a bathroom where we can shower together. Shower sex, Derek.” 

Of course Stiles was once again being even more persuasive than he even knew he was being. Probably because he’d leaned his head on Derek’s shoulder so naturally, as if he’d already managed to make that a habit. 

“You’d break at least one bone if we tried that,” Derek knew him far too well. 

“I resemble that remark,” Stiles huffed. “Not even with werewolf strength? Shower blowjobs? Handjobs? Making out? I’m willing to bargain for it.” 

Those comments were enough to freak out Scott. It was certainly enough for him to get distracted from his mission - distracted enough that he didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, accidentally kicking at the one pole keeping the whole thing up. 

“I can’t hear this,” Scott whimpered from under the collapsed tent.

Kira was laughing, so hard that it was impossible to keep filming. She finally put her phone away and helped her boyfriend get out from under the piles of fabric, so that she could start putting away the tent. Which meant that they were probably going to get out of there within the next five to ten minutes. Which meant they were going to make it home before dinner, easily. 

“Hands over your ears then,” Stiles was grinning triumphantly. “If I get even half as graphic as you’ve gotten about any of your past girlfriends, you’ll be whimpering on the floor. Scotty, just be happy for me and let your badass girlfriend clean up for you. Clearly she’s the tent master here.” 

Seeing as how Kira had already made quick work of the tent poles while Scott had been moaning and whining, Stiles was completely in the right about that. 

“She is,” Scott got that sappy look on his face that made Derek want to vomit. 

Sure, the appreciation of Kira made complete sense. She deserved to be appreciated at least this much - but that look? Derek really didn’t want to be seeing that. So that room that Stiles had been talking about, and that bed? Getting more tempting by the second. 

And judging by the look on Stiles’ face, Derek wasn’t the only one who felt that way. 

Still, Stiles reluctantly let go of Derek to distract Scott. So Derek decided to help Kira out, even though it didn’t particularly look like she needed it. It was still better to offer help and not make her do it alone just because Derek wanted to leave and Stiles was getting a little hangry. 

“Thanks,” Kira told him as he grabbed the other end of the tent cloth. 

They started folding it in silence, steadily working their way through both the inner and outer tent while half listening to the background noise of Stiles and Scott bickering about the kind of details that should and should not be shared between best friends. Kira was easy to work with, and happy to have the help - they had everything done in no time at all. 

“It was a good week,” Kira smiled at him as she picked up her last bag. 

“We should do it again next year,” Derek agreed immediately.

That was not something he’d have expected himself to say a week ago. But he found himself meaning it now, almost looking forward to coming back to this place next year - or perhaps finding another area in the woods. Or even getting a cabin with Stiles some time. 

Though he’d really enjoyed the pack aspect of it as well. Maybe by next year he’d be more involved with the rest of the pack - and not just because they were making bets about him. He was pretty sure that Stiles was not going to let him get away with sitting on the sidelines the whole time. He was going to drag Derek right into the center of attention, whether he wanted to be there or not. And well, if Stiles was there… It wouldn’t be too bad. 

“Dibs,” screeched Stiles. “I call dibs. Next year we start out with one bedroll. Just a bigger one.” 

He got up, almost tripped over his own feet and launched himself at Derek, demanding a piggyback ride. Derek indulged him even though he had to roll his eyes first. 

Stiles Stilinski was a pretty good camping buddy. 


End file.
